


A Different King

by Laina_Inverse



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU of AU, Extreme AU, Gen, Multi, Reincarnation, child!Ganondorf, genderswapping in the last chapter, otherwise known as 'plotbunny attack'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 09:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 48,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8885128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laina_Inverse/pseuds/Laina_Inverse
Summary: She had planned to leave with the knowledge of Ganondorf's birth. She had not been prepared to be there when he was born, nor to be named his new parent by the dying mother. In a bid to change the future, Raiha takes the baby king as far from the Gerudo as she can get, and must face the oncoming war, and her duties as a duchess as well as the trials that come with raising a boy of destiny to be a better man than her memories imply.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This plot bunny bit me almost two years ago, but I was never quite in the right frame of mind to write it until after finishing the TR series. Now the damn thing has a life of its own, and I'm hard pressed to keep up. I hope you like it.

One:

Baby

 

 _I don't know really how this one came about... This solution, I mean. I had_ planned, _after screwing up with magnificence and grace in the creation of the Mirror of Twilight, to try and keep to the status quo with as much precision as I can. I wanted to hermit as much as possible, but still be with my tribe, my people, until the last minute._

_I still haven't decided if this choice is the right one. Or if it's even a good one. I.... damnit, maybe I should have remained aloof, even through the mild dismantling of Koume and Kotake's power base._

_I'm not making sense. Not even to myself._

_Deep breath, Raiha._

_So._

_My friend, Nielesi, gave birth today. The old king died last week, of extreme old age. Nielesi's child is a boy._

_The two witches present decided that he should be named Ganondorf._

_I should have left then. Should have walked out of the room, and left the tribe to the hell they were about to unleash upon themselves._

_But Nielesi... she was dying. I couldn't save her, couldn't stop it. She wouldn't let me. But she said I was to be her son's guardian. His new mother._

_The old hags don't like me. The feeling is mutual. She said it loud enough that they heard. If they could have killed me then, they probably would have. Again, the feeling is mutual._

_I... One doesn't_ argue _with a dying Gerudo mother's wish. And Nielesi was my_ friend. _She didn't try to make me make... sense. When I was sad, she was there just to sit and let me be upset until I could shake it off. When I was content, she was happy too._

_I suppose she was in love with me. I loved her too, but my way of loving is so very different. I dare not love to deeply, because in my life, these people are transient. They will die, and I will continue on._

_In any case, now there is a newborn boy in my room, and I do not know what to do. Part of me wants to hate him, this small baby, who took from me a dear friend, and is the end point of my people._

_And yet..._

_This child is innocent. Right now, he has no idea of who he will become, or what. It is not fair for me to condemn that. I cannot hate a baby, no matter my memories of what he will become._

_He only became that way because he as raised by Koume and Kotake, themselves already corrupted from their abnormally long life._

_Maybe...maybe this will be a good thing._

_But I don't think I can safely raise him here. Those two old witches, they watch me. Waiting, I think, for a chance to declare me unfit. To take him from me. To raise him as_ they _want._

_I have made my choice. I don't care if this is against the will of the goddesses, this boy is mine now, and I will keep him as Nielesi asked. I will raise him with my ideals of honor._

_And we will go to Hyrule, just as soon as the sun sets tonight._

-

 

Raiha closed the journal, and cast a thin-lipped stare at the tiny boy in the basket. He held no sense of Power, or even of malice. His red hair was wispy tufts, his amber eyes closed in silent sleep. Whether this was the right or wrong choice, she could not accurately say. Perhaps, though, this would change things in her favor.

After all, the _last_ time she had tried to interfere in a manner that threw off history, she was prevented by collapsing into slumber and awakening inside the Temple of Time. She was not asleep now. She was very much awake. Almost too much so.

Maybe, just _maybe_ , this change would be for the better.

Feeding him would be a challenge; she had no way of producing breast milk for him, and given the reputation of Gerudo in Hyrule—even her own—it was going to be hard to find someone who would willingly be a wet nurse.

Unless...

Raiha fished into her tunic and pulled out a carved Sheikah eye. It had been decades since she had been in Hyrule, due in no small part to the difficulty of getting there. But if she _did_ manage to make it with the baby strapped to her back, sheltering with the Sheikah might be her best option until the boy was able to be weaned.

If nothing else, the ancient people might at least allow her to stay in their small village for a while until she could re-establish contacts and credentials with some of her other allies. The Hylians had stopped patrolling the border between Hyrule and the desert a long time ago, thinking the difficulty in getting out would leave the tattered remnants of a once proud people trapped.

Really, all it proved was the Hylians could be _remarkably_ short-sighted. In this case, it played to her favor.

_Lanayru, is the portal spell still in place?_

_My mother, it is,_ the water dragon replied. _Are you soon to arrive?_

_Yes. And I'm bringing someone with me._

There was a sense of the Light Spirit nodding its great head at the knowledge, and she smiled a little, the first smile she'd been able to find since Nielesi had dropped that bomb of information. It was tight, and a little angry; she was about to make the same choice her own mother had made in that other lifetime. To save the child at the cost of the tribe.

“The older I become, the less convinced I am that there are coincidences,” she muttered, standing and pacing the small room.

_Is my cache still there as well?_

_All is undisturbed and awaiting your touch, my mother._

_And you three remain well?_

_We do. We are, as yet, little needed._

And if this mad scheme of hers actually worked, they would become superfluous. But wouldn't that be a good thing?

Absently, Raiha worried at a hangnail, then jumped about a foot as the baby stirred, and started to wail. It was one thing to take care of the children knowing that she could return them to their mothers. It was another to realize that _she_ was now the mother, and his wants and needs would require a radical change in her way of thinking.

But first, he needed something, and she had to figure out what that was.

 

-

 

Night fell swift and silent in the desert, and Raiha stared out at the shifting sands with a heart in turmoil. Helpful aunts and sisters all had given her much more than she might ever need in terms of both advice and presents for the king-to-be, not knowing that she was leaving. She had long since learned how to hide her truths behind layers of masks, and while many could see through the brave front, they assumed it was grief for Nielesi that made her pensive, not what she was planning.

How this choice would affect time, she wasn't sure. Under her hand, she would not raise a tyrant, that much was certain. But another boy could be born to this tribe; decimated it was, and difficult to reach Hyrule to seduce men, but the Gerudo women were as stubborn as the desert they lived in, something the Hylian people didn't fully understand.

She shook her head a little, and swept the room one more time for any fragments of herself. Hair was the worst offender, and she'd cut hers short and burned it magically to prevent it from being used against her in some manner. She had to protect herself, and him, from being sought after their disappearance.

No notes.

No apologies.

No explanations.

Raiha closed her eyes, and caught her breath, then checked the items she was leaving behind to make sure there truly was nothing useful in them. Already she had spelled the baby to sleep and stasis—he would wake hungry and furious from the magic, but better that than he give her away as she slipped to the edge of the compound in the shadows and silence of the night.

The food, both for herself and the boy, was packed. The clothing they'd given her for him was folded neatly, the toys stacked on top. She could take none of that, for they would carry impressions of the gifter's personality, and that was a thing that lingered, especially in gifts given to a new king. They could be traced, if the mage knew the correct spell, and she would be damned if she allowed sentimentality to screw her over.

She could hear the celebration still, taking place out in the main common area. The new king had been born. They would be drinking and dancing until dawn, and patrols would be erratic. She could slip into the desert, out of sight of what was left of the compound, and then trigger the spell.

She caught herself pacing again, glancing at the angle of light through her shuttered window, then listening intently for outside sounds, and made herself sit to think her plan through one last time.

The moment she used a powerful spell,the two witches would be altered, which was why she wanted to do it as far from the compound as possible; the longer it took them to realize it had been her, her spell, her magic, the better. She didn't want anyone to catch her leaving either, since that would stick out in someone's memory... or they would try to follow her, since she was carrying their newborn king.

She heard no steps outside her door, and a very careful check of the corridor allowed her to see that no one stood in it, not even in the shadows.

“I must be mad,” she muttered to herself as she carefully tied the baby to her chest and checked the fit of her various belts. “Absolutely mad.”

But if it worked... would she still be mad? If it worked, she could derail the entire event. If it _worked_ and she could get all three pieces in one fell swoop, then... then she would be fulfilling her mandate after only a few painful centuries, instead of the many more she had feared to live.

As quiet as a cat, she crept down the corridor, listening at every juncture for guards, or even just other sisters. She hid from those who patrolled in pairs, complaining as they passed one another that they were missing out on all the fun, and what was the point of doing rounds in their own home when they hadn't been attacked in decades?

The moon was a bare sliver on the horizon when she made it out and struck out eastwards, making for the old canyon and the bridge that was no longer there. So long as she didn't look _down_ , she would be fine, and the rush of the waterfall may well provide her some additional cover.

Luck remained with her; the baby remained in his spellbound sleep, and everyone else's attention was locked onto the great bonfire, the feast, and the alcohol. She could sense no other powerful magic nearby, and the constant desert breeze swiftly whisked her footprints away into nothingness.

At the edge of the canyon she halted, and straightened from her cautious crouch with a faint groan of protest for her aching back. This wasn't likely to be the last of the sneaking around she would have to do, but at least Hyrule gave her more cover than a few rocks.

“All right,” she breathed softly. “Time to go, little one.”

She half-closed her eyes, reached for the abundant magic, and pulled on the spell. With a flare of power and a flash of green light, they vanished from the edge of the desert.

 

-

 

_I had forgotten how large Hyrule truly was. I had planned for a journey of days, possibly weeks, but in the month I have been here, flitting from hiding place to hiding place, I have made very little progress in getting out of Lanayru province, let alone reaching my own._

_There is a ranch nearby, that I am hoping will allow us to sleep in the barn at the very least. I am glad to have a stash of rupees to pay with... and I find myself worrying about the boy._

_I have decided to call him Gan. It is not so weighty a name, and holds no uneasy memories._

_Dawn comes. I must go._

 

-

 

It was different, traveling through Hyrule both only at night, and with the baby. She had stolen food a few times, from farmers who had taken one look at her skin and cursed at her, saying there was no space for her on their lands. She had been tempted, a time or two, to reveal the nobility of her status, but what would have been the point? She couldn't prove it in travel-worn clothing, and the symbol of proof was in the manor house that she never lived in anyways.

Gan was the harder subject. Several times already she had been tempted to put him somewhere and leave; a cow stall, a doorstep, even just a box on the plains. Anywhere, so long as he was no longer her problem.

But Nielesi would never have forgiven her. And damned be her own conscience too. She could do many things considered evil and wrong, but killing a baby.... No, she couldn't do that. _Wouldn't_ do that.

The boy strapped to her chest began to fuss, and she rubbed his back lightly, trying to be soothing as she cautiously approached the farmhouse with glowing lamplight pouring out the windows. Doing this reminded her of what she hated about this country, even as she loved it beyond what was sensible; the people were prejudiced and fearful. Anything different, anyone not like them was shunned.

“Please let this place be different,” she muttered, raising a hand to knock firmly on the door. “Please, Nayru...”

Her knock was answered by a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties, give or take, with the weathered look of someone who worked hard in the sun all day long. His brown hair was streaked with strands of blond, and he had a neatly trimmed beard that didn't _quite_ hide the frown of suspicion.

“Do somethin fer ya?” he asked gruffly.

“Is there space in your barn for me and the baby?” Raiha asked.

“Durin the day?”

It was a fair question; dawn was swiftly approaching, and she had been traveling all night. It looked suspicious to ask, but she found it better to ask then to be suddenly chased because the child was crying from hunger and they found her hiding in the hay.

“Yes,” she said flatly.

The man scratched an ear as he looked hard at her; Raiha met his eyes with tired defiance, staring back. She would pay if he asked for it, or even if he didn't, but she was not going to let him bully her around.

“Oh, Milon, don't make the girl stand in the door,” came the unexpected scold from the woman of the house. “Let her in already!”

After a moment more, the rancher—Milon—moved aside, and let her into the farmhouse. It was well-built and snug; the main room that she entered held a large hearth, a large dining table and several chairs, though only one was occupied, by a sleepy-looking ten year old who was almost dozing in his chair.

The woman who had spoken was large, her expression full of fond exasperation as she watched her husband shut the door behind him, no doubt going to start morning chores.

“Don't mind Milon,” she said. “Come an sit; have something to eat. I'm Londa, an this is my lazy son, Talon.”

She reached over the back of the boy's chair and pinched his cheek slightly, startling him awake.

“Go help your father, young man,” she said sternly. “Collecting the eggs is your chore, now!”

“Yes'm,” Talon said, sliding from his chair and heading out with barely even a glance at Raiha.

Raiha just blinked, and followed the boy with her eyes as the name sang in her mind; clearly Talon had been a lazy child, as well as a lazy adult.

“You all right there, dear?”

“Ah... yes. I'm fine. Thank you.”

She took a seat and watched Londa fill up a plate and set it before her, then, to her surprise, the woman also filled up a bottle with what looked to be milk, and handed that over as well.

It was adroit timing; Gan had just taken a breath to start his 'I'm hungry!' crying, and she was able to quiet him quickly.

“Had a rough life, huh?” Londa asked sympathetically.

“Something like that, yes,” Raiha sighed a little as the baby sucked the milk down with greedy abandon. “Thank you for this.”

“Why, think nothing of it, honey. Now, if it don't bother you none, I can mind the baby so you get yourself some food.”

She hesitated, then nodded, and slowly handed Gan and the bottle over to the rotund woman with the large heart.

 

-

 

 _They've taken to calling me Dawn, that being the time I showed up on their doorstep. Milon started it, which surprised me, but he's not a bad person. Just taciturn, and a little gruff. They never actually_ asked _my name either; shrewd people live at this ranch, I am pleased to say._

_Actually, they haven't asked much about me at all. Londa will gossip away about the women in the small village nearby that she travels to for trade, but never a uestion is asked about me. Either I volunteer information, or I don't. It's.... nice._

_I've been here two weeks already, and every day I tell myself 'today, I will move on.' This place isn't safe; though it borders Eldin province, we are still too close to the lake, and the desert. But I cannot make myself leave. I have to find some way of repaying them for this kindness, and they won't accept my money._

_I've taken to helping out as much as I can. Londa loves having a baby to look after, so while she cares for Gan, I can work in the stables, and help Milon with training the horses. And_ trying _to get Talon interested, but his character traits run deep—he'd rather be out fishing than working hard on the ranch._

_It helps me too, to have someone else take care of Gan when he turns fussy. I think I am not well-made for motherhood. Funny, considering it's supposed to be every Gerudo woman's goal... and at one time, it truly was mine._

 

-

 

“Ain't you s'pposed ta be sleepin?”

Raiha looked up from her writing to see Londa in the doorway, a faint frown on her face. A _motherly_ frown, something Raiha had very little experience with. It made her smile a little, despite herself.

“I tried. I couldn't. I thought writing might calm me down.”

“Judgin by the look on your face, it ain't helpin much,” the Hylian woman observed.

Raiha laughed a little, ruefully, and glanced down at the cradle in which the baby boy slept.

“Just realizing some harsh truths about myself. When I was... younger, it was my dream to someday be a mother, and have daughters of my own. Trying to care for one son, however, instead of cousins I can hand back to _their_ mothers...” She shook her head a little, wryly. “I think I've jumped in over my head...”

“Ah, it's a feeling all new mothers have,” Londa said, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder gently. “Mine did, I did, every woman I've met who's got children did. Adopted or blood.”

Raiha sighed a little.

“Hopefully it'll get easier as he gets older...”

Londa laughed a little.

“Your challenges just get different, honey. But a child will be what they will be. Here, since we're both up, let's have some milk, and then you should get what sleep you can before yon mite starts wantin somethin of his own.”

 

-

 

_I had to sneak out. I feel deceitful leaving like this, but we've been here three months, and my paranoia has grown no easier. I don't think I will truly feel safe until I can be within the canyon that guards Kakariko. Getting into the village itself won't be easy, but hopefully my token will be honored._

_I wanted to wait for him to be six months and sleeping longer, but... I worry that there is no time for that. Paranoid, maybe, but if some scouts found this place, and found me and the boy, this family would suffer as well._

_I left them several orange and silver rupees... and I hope that once Gan is older, and safer, we can come back to visit. Or at the least, I can come to see how they're doing._

_Please, Nayru, let this be the wise choice..._

 

-

 

“Who are you, to come to our gates uninvited?”

“A Sheikah friend from long ago,” she replied, fishing the worn token out from underneath her tunic. “I need sanctuary, and safety in the shadows.”

She tossed the token accurately up to the male Sheikah on guard duty, and tried not to pace with impatience as he scrutinized it far more thoroughly than it warranted.

“Wait there. I must take this to the elders.”

She made an annoyed sound, but stayed outside the gate as he vanished into the shadows. It would have been easier on her to simply slip inside using those same skills, but if she was going to live here until the baby in his sling was old enough to defend himself, she was going to have to earn their trust.

So it surprised her to see, not five minutes later, a young man scurrying up to the gate to look out at her. This new man had blond-brown hair, and the red eyes customary of all Sheikah, and he stared at her so intently, that she brought a hint of fire to her fingertips, and put a protective arm around the baby. If he wanted to harm her, or the child, he would find that she was not as weary as she looked.

“Idoro, what are you doing now?” the remaining guard asked, her voice tight and low.

“I heard Itaraku complaining about a vagabond at the gate with a token, so I came to See.”

“Hah,” the guard scoffed a little. “What could you possibly See about this woman? Your gifts barely come in handy for the people you _know_.”

Idoro scowled up at the guard, then looked back at Raiha, who watched him warily.

“I have Seen her before,” he said abruptly. “We should let her in.”

“That's the Elder's decision, not yours. It's not like Gerudo are _harmless_.”

“Especially not this one,” Raiha muttered.

“Well, then I'll go talk to the Elders as well,” he said, and hurried off into the deepening twilight.

The guard made an annoyed, dismissive sound, and returned to her watch, altering her tine between watching Raiha, and watching down the canyon she came through. Raiha waited with as much patience as she could, keeping her impatient fidgets to shifting her weight and rubbing Gan's back as he slept.

Going to her manor might have been easier than _this_ nonsense, but she didn't want a production made of it. And there would have been no way to _avoid_ a production if she had turned up there, baby on her chest, looking as though she'd been traveling hard. This was safer, if nothing else; no declaration of her return, no announcement of a son whom everyone would assume was her heir...

Itaraku returned as the moon began to cross the sky and grumpily unlocked the gate.

“The Elders want to see you for themselves,” he said, handing back the Sheikah token.

“Fine. Where are they?”

“The largest house near Eldin's Spring.”

 _Eldin? Where are the Sheikah elders housed_? she asked silently as she stepped into the village.

The spirit sent her an image; a small building with a rounded roof, windows paned with clear glass and barred in iron that looked to be of Goron make. Lamplight made the windows glow golden in the night air.

Plainly Itaraku wanted to get her into trouble. Well, the joke was now on him; within the village she felt no compunctions about borrowing Eldin's memories to learn who each person was. The better informed she was, the safer she would be.

 _My thanks, Eldin_.

_Of course, my mother._

She headed straight for the meeting house, and stepped through the wooden doors with both hope and wariness fighting for space in her heart.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Two:

Childhood

 

_This life is no harder than I thought it would be. Gan is five now, and a precocious little terror, but no worse than any other Hylian boy his age. Less disciplined, perhaps, than any of the Sheikah, but they are trained from birth to be guardians of the Royal Family. He is not held to that same standard, and thus, he is a bit more... rambunctious than they are._

_Overtly Gerudo, I suppose. Few hold it against him, at least. Impa seems to find it highly amusing, and has become his best friend, despite the seven year gap between them. When she matures, when they both mature, it will be fascinating to see if their friendship survives._

_It feels strange to realize that I have lived and trained among the Sheikah for five and some years already. Not everyone accepts us, but this is not surprising; the Gerudo reputation is not forgotten., not when they still slip over the border to seduce men for their own use._

_But they do not, cannot, come here._

_We are to travel today; it is his special birthday present, to accompany me on my visit to the Gorons of Death Mountain. The trip to the Zora I will save for after he tames and trains his first horse... but just stepping out of this village, where we have lived for so long will be an adventure to him._

_I hope that I am doing this right...._

 

-

 

“Mama, why're you writin in that book?”

Raiha glanced up from her journal to see the young boy, already haphazardly dressed, standing at the foot of the stairs of their small house. He was definitely up early...

“I'm writing down a record of the past,” she replied. “Same as always.”

“But it's my _birthday_ , and you _promised_ we were going somewhere!” he pouted a little.

“It's barely dawn,” she pointed out. “Usually you're still dead to the world at this hour.”

“I wanna _see_ it” he replied, shifting from pouting child to excited one in the blink of an eye.

“See...?”

“The _world_ , Mama! You said we were gonna go visit a new place today!”

Raiha sighed a little, but couldn't help smiling just slightly. Raised among these people, Gan knew he was different, but it was not the same sort of different had he been raised among the Gerudo. He only knew that they looked different, _were_ different, from the Sheikah people.

“There are still things to be done before that,” she reprimanded him gently. “Since you are awake, we can begin your exercises for the day.”

“ _Mama_ ,” he protested.

“A birthday is just a day, little one, like any other,” Raiha replied, giving him a firm look. “We will celebrate after the work is done. Understand?”

Gan pouted again, sticking out his lower lip in rebellion, and Raiha shook her head a little. She'd seen this in other children, and knew how to remain firm.

“If you're awake now, we can start with target practice, and then your tumbling. After that there's breakfast.”

“And _then_ do we get to go see the Gorons?”

“Yes, my son. Then we can go and see the Gorons.”

The words came so easily now, and she watched with undeniable fondness as he scampered back up those stairs to get his small bow and put on his shoes. It had been hard at first. So hard. That first year, seeking shelter and safety, she had often thought many times of abandoning the boy. Returning him to the desert, or killing him, or even just dropping him at some random doorstep.

Her first helping hand had come from the ranching family; Londa, Milon, and their young son Talon. She had almost thought to stay there, to teach the young boy who could be king what it was like to work hard, to care for people as well as animals... but the ranch was too small, too exposed; Gerudo would be swarming in the desert, taking secret and unsafe paths across to try and bring back the baby she had stolen.

They had stayed a few months anyways, and she always visited in secret when she was 'touring' the countryside. They were always glad to see her, and never pressed for information that she didn't volunteer. Both adults were part of the spying ring that kept her informed of the feelings around all of Hyrule, and were well-compensated for their work. Talon, unfortunately, was still as lazy as ever, and was kept unawares of what she, or his parents, were doing.

The Sheikah had been an astoundingly lucky break. One of them had foresight, and had seen her coming, carrying a great burden. It had been this man who had convinced the Sheikah elders to let her in, and let her stay. It had been his help that had granted her an actual house instead of the small tent she had been fully prepared to set up... he was even Gan's honorary uncle, and the boy loved him dearly.

It was this man, Idoro, that she had confessed the truth to, after three years of keeping her silence and allowing the other Sheikah to get used to her as much as they could. That she had kidnapped the boy to protect him from the idealization and fanaticism of their people, who would set him up as a powerful, dangerous king if they could.

Raiha remembered seeing in his face that he knew she wasn't telling him everything. But the fact that he accepted this was why she trusted him so much. Becoming his teacher in the matter of his Sight—which was mostly just shoring up his confidence and getting him to accurately speak what he Saw—also helped.

Gan clomped back down the stairs in his wooden sandals, small bow and quiver slung over one shoulder, amber eyes sparkling eagerly with the desire to get the 'work' part of the day over with so they could move onto the 'fun' part. She hid a smile as she considered the climb they had ahead of them to visit the rock-eating race known as the Gorons, and got to her feet so that she could keep an eye on him.

 

-

 

“Mama, I'm _hot_ ,” Gan whined.

“I did warn you that it wouldn't be an easy climb,” she said mildly. “Do you want to go back?”

“No!”

“Do you need a break?”

“NO!”

She heaved a mental sigh and looked down at the small child who was plodding along behind her; stubbornness was definitely a Gerudo trait, and he was exhibiting it to its fullest extent.

“Then what _do_ you want to do, little man?” she asked, planting one hand on her hip.

“....can you carry me?” he asked, scuffing his feet in the dirt.

Raiha glanced up the path as she considered the idea. He _was_ only five, and maybe she ought to have tried harder to discourage him from coming along this year; the fact that he was exhausted was partially her fault.

“All right. But I'm not carrying you the whole way,” she warned. “You're getting too big for this.”

He really was too; at five years old, he was already a head taller than other Sheikah boys, and half her own height. Soon, he would be both too big _and_ too heavy for her to carry, even with her own training regime.

She shifted her quiver around to the front, tucking the bow down a little more in its sling, then crouched down to let the boy scramble onto her back. He wrapped his arms snuggled around her shoulders, and she half-suspected he'd complained of being tired just for this outcome. He was a far more tactile child than she'd anticipated, and liked finding sneaky ways to give her affection.

It made her wonder if she was giving him the proper attention some days, but with a mental shrug, she decided to worry about it later. Since today was his birthday, she certainly could let it slide.

The sound of his awed breath as they topped the rise, and he saw, for the first time, beyond the guarding cliffs of Kakariko, was definitely worth the effort of carrying him.

“Is that Hyrule, Mama?”

“That's Hyrule, Gan.”

“When do I get to go out _there_?”

She laughed a little, and let him slide down from her back so that she could stretch.

“Not for a while yet, kiddo. Give it another seven to ten years. When you're taller, and stronger, and I don't have to worry so much about protecting you.”

He would face different trials than she did, when it came to being Gerudo on this soil. His Hylian traits were not as overt as her own; only the pointed ears gave away the fact that he was as they all were, a race of mixed people.

The wind caught and ruffled his short red hair as he looked up at her.

“Do you promise?”

“We'll see when you're older, Gan.”

 

-

 

 _I'm hearing more rumors now, as my contacts are reporting to me. The Gorons seemed to have settled into an uneasy truce with the current Hylian King, a young man named Tores. And I mean young in age,_ and _in skill. He's not good with his courtiers at all, and this alliance only went through because I asked Darunia to try as a favor to me._

_War is going to come once again. I can feel it, and Idoro has said as much; if the king cannot learn to curb his tongue and his vices, it's libel to be a civil war, and that won't end well for anyone. With this cautious alliance with the Gorons, and the Zora staying effectively neutral, things may remain calm for a time, and Tores may learn to curb himself._

_I hope..._

_Tores worries me; he's feckless and unapologetic about his choices and excesses. I believe there's potential for him to be a good king, but he's surrounded by sycophants and yes-men, which are undermining that potential. Arrogance in a king is not the best trait to cultivate, just like it wasn't in the other time with Ganondorf._

_I hate wasted potential... Gan is doing much better now, I think._

_He turned eight last week, and I was forced to miss it; he hasn't yet forgiven me, and I admit, it cuts deeper than I expected. I didn't mean to start loving this boy, but I have. He is not blood, nor is he king, but he has become my son._

_I am still awake, still aware. Either this will make no difference, or all the difference in the world._

 

-

 

A knock at the door made her look up, then close and hide the journal before she went to answer.

“Idoro?” she blinked in surprised to see him at her door so late. “Please, come in.”

Something was up; she could tell from the look in his eyes, the concern and the edge of fear, that he had Seen something. That was usually the only reason he turned up in late evening hours on her doorstep.

“Is Gan here?”

“No, he and Impa are having a sleepover, since he's still giving me the silent treatment,” she said dryly. “It seemed easier to let him stay over; she's pretty good at talking him around.”

“She is to be the next leader of our people,” he said with a nod, flopping bonelessly into a chair. “It stands to reason that she would be good at that sort of thing.”

“Yes. What have you Seen?”

“You won't like it.”

“I _do_ ro...”

He held up one hand with a resigned smile.

“I know, I know,” he sighed a little. “Get it over with. Taskmistress.”

“You knew that the day you met me,” she retorted, pulling out her stool and dropping onto it. “So, tell me, what is this about? The civil unrest?”

“I... can't be certain. I Saw a handful of the people this time.... Two old women with cold, hard eyes, flanking a Gerudo boy. I couldn't tell if it was Gan or not, but I would recommend keeping him close, hurt feelings or not, for the next few months.”

A chill went up Raiha's spine at the words, and she clenched her hands tightly. By necessity, she had to go out; maintaining her contact network was not something she could do from a closed village. Gan was too young still to come with her, though he was growing skilled in the ways of fighting that were common to Gerudo.

“Raiha, it could very well be nothing-”

“Don't feed me a platitude because you're worried, Idoro,” she snapped, in no mood to be placated. “That's half the reason you had so much trouble with your power before, you know. If you See something, even if it's uncertain, saying it is better than nothing. At least with a thing acknowledged a plan can be prepared.”

He sighed a little, and passed a hand over his face.

“Yes, teacher,” he said patiently. “But truly, I didn't, _couldn't_ , get a good look at the boy between them. His face was in shadow. All I know is that there could be trouble, and that nagging feeling in my gut that wants it to not be trouble for you.”

She blew out a breath in mild irritation, and sat back, arms crossed as she thought her options through. There was no place in the land that was safer, honestly, than this village which was Sheikah only. It was the farthest point from the desert that wasn't the mountain of Snowpeak—a cold and pitiless place that she wanted nothing to do with—or the Kokiri-bound forests, rife with their own dangerous magic that she had no desire to tangle with sans a guide.

Plus, Gan had never actually been outside the village. Going up to the Gorons didn't count; Gerudo only took mates from compatible races, and that was Hylian. They had no reason to come this far to the east, away from the safety of the difficult desert that was home. _Especially_ not those two witches, who had never left the desert to begin with.

There had been no Spirit Temple for them to make their home in, but they had attempted to take back the prison. It had been... less bountiful than they'd hoped. They still had, somewhere in the desert, a secret lair, but nothing as extensive or useful to them, and they'd always been loathe to leave it unguarded.

There was, of course, the option of proxies, but again, what Gerudo would come this far east? The Sheikah were not a well-known tribe, and what _was_ known of the shadowfolk was that they were utterly devoted to guarding the Royal Family. They let nothing stand in the way of that duty, nor did they allow themselves to be distracted while _on_ duty. She could remember hearing complaints about it while she had been flitting around the compound before Nielesi's death.

And not even the Royal Family knew where the hidden village was.

“So... I changed nothing after all,” she muttered, running an absent hand through her hair. “All right.”

“Raiha?”

“It's nothing, Idoro. Talking to myself. Thank you for telling me. I am not sure when Gan will forgive me, but I will keep a more watchful eye on him until I have to leave again.”

He nodded, then scooted up a little in his chair.

“Since I am here, might I not ask for another lesson?”

She snorted a little, and sighed.

“As amusing as being your teacher is, not tonight. I have to think, and I prefer to do that without someone staring at me.”

Idoro sighed a little as well, but thoughtfully, not petulantly. Few knew of their status as on-and-off lover, and admittedly while _most_ late-night lessons were just that, some.... weren't. He got to his feet after a moment, and sketched the respectful bow of student to teacher before letting himself out. Raiha shook her head a little over his theatrics, and tipped her chair back slightly to contemplate this half-anticipated twist to her life.

“I suppose it only makes sense,” she sighed after a moment, speaking softly to herself. “The events that must take place to bring Link here would require someone who is ruthless and willing to harm other races to get the outcome he wants. It would have been too easy this way, wouldn't it?”

Silence was her only answer, and she raked a hand through her short hair, disheveling it as she abruptly stood and began to pace. Had she gotten it wrong? What if the name had been bestowed _after_ he had reached puberty?

No, that made no sense; her people didn't have that particular naming convention. That was a _Goron_ thing, not a Gerudo thing.

So they had a new boy to be their king. Of course. They wouldn't search forever, and it had been almost ten years since she'd taken Gan and run off. She wondered, briefly, how young this new boy was, then discarded the thought. She had only caused a brief delay, knowing her luck...

But in a way, she was glad that she had. Maybe she hadn't meant to love the boy as though he was her son, but she did. After all, weren't both she, and this land she now lived in, representatives of the fact that even though things might happen in the same manner, there was no way for _everything_ to be identical.

She sighed again. Thought for a moment. Then decided to go to Impa's home and see how they were getting on.

Impa's father was, amusingly enough, waiting for her just outside the door, a very dry smile on his face.

“He's got a bit of a temper on him, doesn't he?” he asked quietly, his voice a rasp from an old throat injury.

“That he does. Are they doing all right?”

“Impa seems to have talked him out of going through your stuff, if nothing else.”

The older man had a grin that suggested he found the threat funny; Raiha just briefly closed her eyes, and thanked Nayru that she kept her journals where the boy never could find them. If he read those...

Well, he was too young yet to understand.

“They're sleeping now, anyways,” he said after a long moment. “He was still a bit out of sorts, but he dropped off easily enough. Want to go in and check?”

“...yes...”

“Such a devoted mother.”

“Bali, I _will_ throw you across the ring tomorrow,” she half-threatened.

She found no humor in the fact that it was an open secret, the lack of blood connection between herself and Gan. A few of the Sheikah used it to make digs at her, and though Bali was not typically one of them, every now and again he liked to poke fun at her about it. Fortunately, like his nephew Idoro, Bali was the easy-going sort who only shrugged a little, smirked, and slid a little farther out of the way she she went inside.

The children slept on the second floor, sprawled haphazardly over the large bed. Both of them were half on, half off, and as Raiha watched, Impa slid a little more to the side after shoving at Gan with her foot. She rolled her eyes in dry amusement, and very carefully shifted both of them back into the bed properly, covering them with the blankets, and gently smoothing hair out of sleeping faces.

Gan leaned into her touch in his sleep, and she couldn't help but smile, just a little; even upset, it seemed the familiarity of her touch gave him some comfort.

“Mmnn... m'ma...s'ng.”

He wasn't awake, only talking in his sleep, but that didn't stop her from sitting at the foot of the bed and singing a soft lullaby. It wasn't by chance that she chose the song of the royal family... Someday, she knew, Zelda would hear this song from Impa herself. Besides, like most of the magical melodies, it was soft, easy to remember, and helped ease the ache of her own heart.

 

-

 

_Rumors of war grow worse every time I leave. I want to keep my people, my province, out of the trouble, but I don't know that I can; even I have to admit that Tores' taxes are getting out of hand._

_My last trip out, I went to spy on him. I should have done this earlier instead of relying on hearsay and rumor, but I thought it would only be a matter of waiting for war to begin, and then to end. Foolish of me; I shouldn't have let myself get complacent or distracted._

_Tores is not the king this land needs him to be. I fear he never will be. People rally instead to his cousin, a man named Dalfnes. I admit, the difference between them is night and day, and I can see why people turn to Dalfnes with Tores' excesses in overt display._

_Darunia himself has told me that of the two, he finds Dalfnes more worthy of the title of king. I wish I knew which path I was meant to take... all I can do at this moment is advise patience and caution..._

_I feel so utterly useless. I thought I was getting better at this being patient thing. I've had centuries to practice, but I still find myself wanting everything to happen Right Now..._

 

_-_

 

“Hey, Mom?”

Raiha looked up from her writing at her now twelve-year-old son, studying his expression for a moment before putting the journal aside for the moment.

“Yes, Gan?”

“Um...” the boy fidgeted uncertainly. “How do you know... when you like someone?”

“Well, you like your friends, don't you?”

She hid a smile as he fidgeted more, his cheeks darkening with embarrassment.

“Not like that,” he mumbled. “Like how you like Uncle Idoro...”

“Ah. Romance, instead of friendship,” she chuckled a little, and motioned for him to sit. “It's not a straightforward thing, kiddo, so I'm not sure what I say will help, but I'll do my best. Is it one of your friends?”

He pulled up a chair and nodded a little shyly.

“Well, that does help. Unrequited affection, or even derision is hard to take from a first crush. Rather, it can never be easy to learn that someone doesn't quite love you the same way back...”

After a moment of reflecting on the strangeness of her own romantic life, she just shook her head a little.

“Well, since they're your friend, you plainly enjoy their company,” she said after a moment. “Does it hurt to be apart?”

The boy thought for a moment, mimicking her usual thinking pose; leaned back slightly with arms crossed and head tipped to one side. It made her smile; difference in skin tone aside, he was very much her little mimic. His red hair was growing almost shaggy, and he confined it as best he could in a ponytail, using water or oil to keep loose locks from falling into his face. He also seemed to be outgrowing his clothes again, she noted; the cuffs of his sleeves were riding up onto his forearms, and his pants were looking a bit worn in places.

“A little?” Gan finally said. “I mean, I don't _always_ want to be around him, but I feel a bit lonely when he's not around, and I get really happy when I see him again.”

Then he jerked a little, and gave her a wide-eyed stare, but Raiha only nodded a little in understanding. Hylians could be a bit prudish about taking lovers, especially lovers who were of their same gender. Sheikah were a _bit_ more sensible, but clearly the attitude of 'if you're a male you must love a female' had worn off on Gan.

“Well, that's a healthy enough reaction. Young love can be a bit... foolish at times,” she said with a faint smile. “When I had my first crush, I wanted to spend all my free time with her. I still haven't decided if it's a good or bad thing that she was almost always too busy to spend a lot of time with me.”

The tension eased from his shoulders, and she reached out to lightly rest a hand on his arm.

“The Gerudo and Hylian races have always had a very different idea about love and lovers,” she said seriously. “But there is nothing wrong with loving someone of your own gender grouping romantically. Or even just platonically. Love may not make the world go around, but it makes living on it much more bearable.”

“So it's...it's okay?”

“Yes.”

He sighed a little in relief, and slumped back in the chair.

“Should...should I tell him?”

“Mmmm....” Now it was Raiha's turn to lean back contemplatively. “I hesitate to say yes or no here. Sheikah are more open-minded than Hylians, but not every Sheikah will like the idea.”

“Is it because we're both boys, or because I'm Gerudo?”

The words held a touch of bitterness, and Raiha immediately leaned forward again. She would not sugar-coat the truth; if he was old enough to ask a hard question about love, then he was old enough to begin to understand the _why_ of the prejudice against their people.

“Both. My son, our race has an unfairly maligned reputation, this much is true. But our desert, the desert I left for your sake, is not a kind or forgiving place, and few Hylians seek to understand what it is about the desert that would drive us to live there, but also desire escape from it,” she sighed a little. “Even this far to the east, among these rocky hills, the Hylians have _so much_ that the Gerudo do not. Water, a stable-ish government, the land to grow food...”

“Why don't they move here, then?” he asked.

“Because the desert is home in a way that Hyrule is not,” she said simply. “When you're old enough to walk the paths and see for yourself, you'll see what I mean, but for the moment...”

She half-closed her eyes, then spread her fingers. Around them, the room vanished as she exercised her magic to project a memory of the desert, seen from the high bluffs that made up the border between the desert and the lake. Gan drew in a sharp breath as he watched the abrupt reveal of the sun over the mountain.

After a moment, she let the illusion fade, and smiled a little sadly at the awestruck look on the boy's face.

“It's _home_ ,” she repeated. “And though it's harsh and hard, it's also a place that we just don't want to leave without a good reason.

“Ah, and also, the Hylians have never been really open to Gerudo ever since the ancient war that cost us the Spirit Temple,” she added matter-of-factly, mostly as a distraction so that he wouldn't ask what _her_ reasons were. He was not, she believed, ready for that particular nugget of information. “When we are forced to live up to the reputation of thievery to survive, it's hard to make strides in peace. Individually, progress can be made, but as a whole... it's very much taking a step forward, and then two back.”

He scratched his head, pulling out some loops of hair as he did so, then grimaced and tucked them back as best he could.

“That's confusing,” he confessed.

She laughed a little, and nodded.

“It can be, yes. Politics usually are.”

The boy made a face, and she laughed again; he was very much not a political child, despite the fact that her very real job required _her_ to be political more often than not.

“Why can't people just say what they mean?” he asked, and not for the first time.

“Because sometimes that can lead to more trouble than it's worth. Picking fights to prove you're right won't always win you any friends or allies. The Gorons value the straightforward, but Zora, Hylian, and Sheikah all need diplomatic touches to keep this country working well together.”

“Impa says it's not... does that mean you'll have to go away again soon?”

“Impa is correct, but no. I should be able to stick around for a few months before I have to travel again.”

“So does that mean you'll teach me one of your really cool moves?” he asked eagerly.

“Have you mastered the _last_ 'really cool move' I tried to show you?” she asked, raising an amused eyebrow.

“....mostly....”

“Mmhm. Let's go up the part a bit and you can show me just what 'mostly' means, and I'll decide then.”

Questions were immediately forgotten as he shot to his feet and bounced around her like a child half his age in excitement. His clear exuberance eased her mind and her heart... War was inevitable, civil war, but she could take time to enjoy the peace, and train her son in the Gerudo skills that were his birthright.

 

-

 

“Lady Raiha, may I have a word?”

Raiha looked up from her book—reading this time, trying to relax. Gan had certainly _not_ mastered the spell, and after she'd finished laughing at the resulting static explosion—his hair had been poofed out like a cat's tail after being startled—she had gone about talking him through it several more times until he was at least able to contain the spell in his hand without it trying to leap out.

Gan had been thoroughly exhausted by the effort and had gone to bed almost an hour beforehand, which had allowed her to both finish journaling, and then try to calm her own busy brain. To be interrupted wasn't necessarily _pleasant,_ but when she saw who stood in the open doorway, she found herself not quite as annoyed.

“Impa,” she smiled a little, and set the book aside. “What can I help you with?”

Impa was not yet at her full height, but she was getting there; at nineteen years of age, she stood at Raiha's shoulder, wore her white hair tied back in the familiar short tail, and had just started learning how to add the greasepaint that would help shield her eyesight on a particularly bright day. She was practical and considered wise for her age; an old soul in a young body.

To Raiha, seeing this old friend so young, it was always a bit startling. She had never thought that she might witness her former friends and allies from that other life grow into themselves in this one.

Impa claimed a chair and clasped her hands loosely in front of her, between her knees.

“You know what will happen soon,” she said lowly after a moment, “don't you?”

“I suspect,” Raiha replied carefully. “It's hard to not hear the news from the other provinces and feel that war is in the wings.”

“I don't know what to do,” the Sheikah woman admitted. “Father says that soon I will have to take my first assignment to guard the Royal Family, but I do not feel as though we should be protecting or even supporting Tores. The Gorons have not withdrawn from the Hylians, but they tell us of the new tariffs and taxes on their goods that make it difficult to sell, and harder to buy in the city markets. Some have even suggested that Darunia has no respect for the King, and may call all his people back to the mountain to prepare for trouble...”

“Have you asked Darunia yourself?”

“Not as of yet,” Impa admitted. “Father has me tending more and more to the daily efforts of this village as his disease progresses. Are you certain there is nothing you can do for him?”

“Oh, I could do plenty,” Raiha replied sourly. “But Bali doesn't want me to. He says he's done his duty, and he's quite willing to wait for the shadows of oblivion. Forcing a healing on someone isn't ethical, no matter how much I'd like to do it...”

And really, she would have; Bali's disease wasn't impossible to cure, not with the power of the Light Spirits augmenting her own. As annoying as he could be, Bali was a wise man, and a good leader, knowing when to listen to his village's elder council, and when to ignore them. He was patient, and kind, easy-going, and well-loved.

“I've tried talking him around,” she continued, then shook her head, “but he is adamant. It's not going to happen so long as he has a say in it.”

“Oh.... Then... what will _you_ do?”

“...right at the moment, I'm watching and waiting. Listening and collecting my information,” Raiha replied. “This war is likely to split this tribe down the middle, and as much as I would like to avoid getting involved, I know that's not feasible. At some point, a line will be drawn, and I hope to have enough information to decide on which side I will stand.”

“Your word will sway many people,” Impa said after a long moment.

“So will yours,” Raiha countered. “You are to be the next leader. If you want my advice on this, I say, trust your instincts. You're a sharp woman, Impa. Listen both to what you're told, and to how you feel.”

“And... what if I can't. Will you help me?”

“I will help you, but I cannot make a choice for you,” she cautioned. “I can only advise what I feel is the wisest course of action.”

Impa sighed a little, then nodded.

“How goes training with Gan?” Raiha asked, steering the subject to a lighter, more amusing topic.

“....challenging,” was the ginger reply. “He is strong, swift, and flexible, but his control... his temper, rather, still needs a lot of refining. I thought girls going through their first menses were difficult, but he takes it to an extreme at points...”

Raiha snickered a little, and reached out to pat Impa on the shoulder comfortingly.

“I'll be sure to work with him on that. I'll be around for a few months this time, and can give more direct explanations.”

“Thank Farore,” Impa sighed. “He's nice most of the time, but I swear...”

“He's suffering through his first crush and trying to decide how to deal with it,” she grinned a little. “With any luck, he should calm down just as soon as that happens.”

“Or get worse.”

“..this is true too. I suppose I'll have to have the 'we do not show off for lovers' talk with him tomorrow.”

“And the bragging one,” Impa said dryly. “Bad enough that he's almost my height at nearly half my age.”

“Ah. Yes. The conversation about bragging,” and Raiha sighed a little. “He _is_ going to be thirteen next year... I suppose it was only a matter of time...”

Impa chuckled a little, and got to her feet.

“Thank you for speaking with me. I appreciate it very much.”

“Any time, Impa. Have a good night.”

“Any you, lady.”

Raiha watched Impa go with a thoughtful frown, then sighed a little, and pulled out her journal.

 

 _Being in the position to give advice to a friend from whom I once_ received _advice is very strange, and makes me think too much about what was, and what cannot be. It seems... almost unfair, but I suppose fairness is not what this world is about. If it was, Tores wouldn't be ruling right now. Lines in the sand, and time traveling ever on..._

 _I have already caused one major change in this world that Link will someday return to. A change I don't have the courage to undo, even though I know there's nothing more I_ can _do for the Twili people._

_Even when I interact directly, I still feel like I miss so much._

_What do I do when war comes? How will it end? How will we protect those who cannot fight because of youth or elderly status?_

_I need to talk to Darunia, I think. He may know of a place we can use for safety. Kakariko is not exposed, not easy to reach, but if those of able body and mind divide themselves due to duty over all, the rest will need a place to avoid the fighting._

_He also provides good, solid advice. With my thoughts flitting about like tufts of dandelion seed, I need some solidity._

_And I also need to figure out how to broach certain topics with Gan that won't leave him feeling resentful. Boasting and bragging, even with the skill to back them up, is never helpful. Showing off is even less so. And add in the complication that he has a crush on one of his male friends..._

_I am glad he is growing up, but I am sad to realize just how much of it I have missed. I am lucky that he does not resent me entirely, I suppose, for going out and about without him. If the war begins soon, I don't know how well I'll do at keeping him safe._

_I do not want my son to suffer, but as he grows older, he will need my protection less and less. I want to have him retain what innocence he has for as long as he can, but life will teach him all the lessons it taught me sooner or later._

_I have also been reminded of why I did not like to_ be _directly involved. Bali's refusal of healing frustrates me, as does Idoro's lack of communication these past months. I am trying not to take either event personally, but I feel hurt and lost because of them. I may not love Idoro with the same intensity as I loved Sheik or Link, or even Zelda, but I dislike the loneliness that comes from not seeing him... and when Bali's illness fully takes him into the shadows...the thought breaks my heart._

_I thought I was properly hardened to these sorts of events. I don't know yet whether it is a good thing or a bad thing to realize that they still impact me so fully._

_I feel I will get no sleep this night. I will leave a note for Gan, in case he wakes before I get back, and go up to see Darunia._

_And I fear I will have to cut my planned stay short. This will not go well at all._

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Three:

Teenager

 

_Gan has not left his room for three days. He's sulking, I believe, since Atake started dating Miru._

_...I say 'dating' but really, they're all of thirteen. I am not so sure that affectionate couples last from such a young age. Gan is simply sulking because he hadn't yet managed to tell Atake how he felt. Miru being much more proactive in that area certainly doesn't help._

_I do feel sorry for him, truly. Unrequited love is quite painful. But at the same time, I can't help but feel a touch of amusement, which I feel I rather desperately need in these tumultuous times._

_War is not_ quite _declared, but lines in the sand have begun to be drawn. The village is tense, with some people supporting Tores from duty, and others supporting Dalfnes for the same. They are both Royal Family, after all. Others support from what they know of the two men... it is depressingly about even, despite all evidence of Tores' excesses..._

_The Gorons have officially withdrawn their support from all comers; if Dalfnes wishes to court Daruna's favor—not to mention the metals for weapons and armor—he's going to not just have to find a way into the village, but beyond it, to the Goron City. I think he will; he's a clever person, if a bit rash himself. In dealing with Darunia, that rashness will help him. Blunt has always worked well with him..._

 

-

 

“You can't sulk forever, you know,” Raiha said idly, leaning against the doorframe of her son's room.

“Can too,” he grumbled into his pillow.

She sighed a little, but there was a smile on her face. Young love was so... ridiculous at times.

“Am I allowed in?”

“...whatever...”

It was close enough to permission that she pushed the door open a little more and walked in to perch on the edge of his bed. His room was getting a bit messy, not to mention stuffy, but it was his space to care for as he saw fit. Besides, he was suffering heartbreak. She could let it slide for now.

“What purpose does this serve?” she asked after a moment. “Are you staging a mood protest, or just wallowing in self-pity?”

“It's not _fair_ ,” he whined.

“It's life, my son. Life doesn't know the concept of fair,” she replied calmly.

“I thought you said Farore gave balance and law to the world!”

“Balance does not always mean fair, and law never is,” Raiha shrugged a little. “Law is for the powerful; those with means and money can buy their way out of most everything. It doesn't matter what law it is, there is always someone getting the short end of it; usually the poor, who are the most often wronged.”

He sniffled a little, and curled up a bit more.

“Why does it have to _hurt_?” he asked after a long minute.

“I don't know,” Raiha sighed a little, and reached out to smooth some of his hair. “Maybe that's part of the balance; if we don't know pain, do we know what happy is? The best I can offer is that it will fade, given time.”

He half sat up,then turned more towards her so that he could throw his arms around her and hold on tight. Raiha returned the hug, gently stroking his hair, and smiled sadly, sympathetically.

“W...what do I do, Mom?”

“Give it some time,” she replied softly. “Let yourself feel the pain, acknowledge it, and then do what you can to let it go. You want your friend to be happy, don't you?”

“...yeah...”

“Then try and make your peace with this. It doesn't have to be today, this week, or even this month, but at some point, try to let go of the negative emotions, and enjoy the fact that your friend is happy with someone he cares about.”

“...okay...” There was a long pause. “Should I tell him...?”

“No. I know it'll be hard to keep it to yourself, Gan, but that won't help anything right now. If they decide to split up,” which she considered the most likely outcome, really, “give him some time to heal and then, perhaps, broach the subject. But not now. All you'll do is cause yourself further harm, and then compound it by hurting both Atake and Miru.”

He heaved a sigh, and muttered in Gelda. Raiha stifled a chuckle, and kissed the top of his head.

“That's mean, don't do that either.”

“Spoilsport.”

“I _am_ your mother.”

Another sigh, but this one much less heavy with pain. It wasn't much, but it was a start, at least.

“...Mom?”

“Hm?”

“Do you know when Uncle Idoro, or Impa are coming back?”

“I wish,” and now it was her turn to sigh. “But no.”

Idoro had remained incommunicado, but Impa, at least, tried to write once a month to let Bali, Gan, and Raiha know how she was doing. The letters also served the purpose of keeping them informed on the climate outside of the village... and whether she had seen others of her people who had slowly been vanishing.

“Do you miss him?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

“...are you going to go look for him?”

“Not yet,” she said after a long moment, surprised by the question. “I still have a few avenues open that haven't been fully explored, and there's one project that's not yet finished that I still have to keep an eye on here.”

“If he doesn't come back soon, will you then?”

“What's this about?” she asked, sitting back a little so that she could give Ganon a searching look. “Have you heard something?”

“No!” He leaned back too, and shook his head rapidly, an uneasy expression clear on his face. “I just... I miss him, and I feel funny when I think about him being gone for good. Like... Like my gut says he's in trouble and needs help.”

Gan's magic had manifested itself at the age of ten, and they had been working hard with it every chance she was home for more than a handful of days. His control was not always the best, but he was young, and still learning; it was good enough for the moment, even if he _was_ prone to using more power than strictly necessary.

But he had never shown any sign of foresight, or even a strong empathetic tendency. Raiha frowned a little in thought.

“I'll push a little harder on my contacts,” she finally said. “We'll still have to wait and see, but I'll keep your feeling in mind.”

It wasn't how anyone else would have handled it, but Raiha was used to thinking on her feet, and Gan needed some reassurance right now. Come to think of it, she could use some herself, and Idoro had been silent for too long for her to dismiss even just a worry that he might not be all right.

“Come on, let's have something to eat, and then you should probably let some air and light in here,” she coaxed, shifting the subject to something less personal for both of them. “If you're up for it, after, I'll show you a new move.”

He was not as eager as he would have been a week ago, but Gan nodded, and finally released her.

It was, if nothing else, a start.

 

-

 

_Idoro has vanished as surely as if he'd never existed. Impa has seen no sign of him at all, not with Tores or Dalfnes, or any of the other members of royalty or nobility. No one speaks of him in the castle, not to complain about him vanishing, or even to say never showing up at all._

_I have a bad feeling about all of this. Idoro was not necessarily well-respected here, but he was still a member of the tribe, and his vanishment has not sat well with anyone. Some people whisper that he has been locked away because of his Seer's gift, which he never_ was _good at keeping secret._

_I'm going to search the prison in the palace.... and then I might make the trek to the desert._

_Darunia, at least, seems to have found a secondary place where those who are too young or two old to fight in the war that is all but inevitable now. It's still in Eldin territory, a few days worth of travel from here. I plan to look it over, and then backtrack to the east entrance of the castle. If it suits, I'll get some carpenters to build housing, and see what we can coax from the land in terms of room for planting. I might get the Gorons to make it larger if I have too..._

_I feel bad about leaving now. Bali has, at best, a few weeks left of his life. He refuses to call Impa back, but I am not so constrained. She deserves to be at his side when he passes, and the old battle-bait would probably take some comfort from it as well._

_I should get moving. I promised Gan I wouldn't be gone long, and soonest left, soonest returned._

 

-

 

“It's a bit... small,” she said with a faint frown, surveying the available land.

“Big Brother said so too,” the Goron accompanying her tour replied. “We've been working on making it wide and longer, but the rock here is tough, goro. The earth is solid too...”

She nodded in agreement; it would take a lot of effort to coax plants to grow in soil that was more like clay than nourishing earth. But at least there she could provide some small answer.

“Bring in mountain ash,” she suggested. “And some dirt from the Lanayru province. We'll mark out specific spots for gardens... the places where they'll get the most sunlight. What about water?”

“It runs underground, goro. The Zora have not said yet whether they will help or not, though...”

“Okay. I can talk to them after....”

After she perused the prisons in Hyrule Castle, looking for her missing friend. She pushed away anxious thoughts, and made herself focus on the map of the planned village.

“The layout of the buildings look good. I'll contact a few carpenters while I'm in the city, and send them out this way with wood, glass and stone.”

There were benefits to being the ruler of Eldin, even if few people knew it. She could fund an ambitious project like this one, more or less all on her own. She was just going to have to stop by the small manor home she had, and get proof of nobility.

“We will work hard, brother!” the Goron promised. “Big Brother does not want your village to suffer from war, goro.”

“...we'll suffer from it no matter what, but if we can protect the young, we can at least start rebuilding when it ends,” Raiha sighed a little, and rolled up the map. “All right. If this works, I should be able to send people to you in about a week to start building the houses, and I'll talk to the Zora soon about shifting the flow of water so that no one has to travel too far for it.”

“Good luck, brother!”

Raiha half-smiled and headed out through the tunnel; a clever idea of Darunia's to make it hard to send an army into the village without warning. It made her feel glad that he was, and had remained, so steadfast a friend.

 

-

 

The manor house was shrouded in the mists of false dawn as she approached. She tried to visit once every ten or so years, just to make sure the people there knew who she was and knew not to bar her entry, but sometimes she forgot, and it took time to convince the head of staff—a tiny staff, since she didn't live there—that she was exactly who she said.

Raiha the Unchanging was the whispered name; mostly she ignored it. She didn't have the time or the energy to spare in creating a false family tree, or repeatedly faking her own death to give her 'descendant' an inheritance. One of these days, she really _was_ going to invest in a damn painting; it would be faster than having to prove herself again and again when more than five decades had passed between visits.

She was only putting the effort into meeting now because she didn't want to fight that would come if they thought someone who was _not_ her had taken the ring. She wanted this small hidden village built up _fast_ , and she didn't want Tores trying to investigate what was going on if someone accused her of _not_ being who she was.

It was hard enough being the only Gerudo nobility, and _keeping_ that title—while annoying—was still worth the effort.

Fortunately enough, the same head of staff was still in place. She was older now, a thick mass of steel-gray hair pinned in a very matronly bun replacing what Raiha thought might have once been chestnut brown, and she walked with a stoop, but there was that firm, no-nonsense look in dark blue eyes that she remembered.

“And who might you be, missy?” the elderly woman asked sharply. “We'll have none of your ilk around here seducing our menfolk and leaving them broken-hearted.”

“Then it's a good thing I'm not here to seduce anyone,” Raiha replied tartly. “Since that's a waste of my time and theirs. Really, _must_ I commission a painting to remind you people of how I look?”

It would have helped to remember the woman's name, but the tart response seemed to jar her memory some.

“....Duchess?”

Raiha grimaced a little.

“ _Definitely_ going to have to commission a painting,” she grumbled. “I don't have time for it now, though. Yes. It's me. I need my ring, please.”

“...how do I know you're really the duchess?”

“On any other day, I would be happy to commend your suspicious nature, but we are on the far side of Hyrule; I really doubt that anyone from the desert would come this far, _alone_ , just to try and impersonate _me_. I am also on something of a time limit here; so if you don't mind, I'd like my ring, and I'd like the damned thing _now_.”

Usually she wasn't so short with the staff; it was hardly _their_ fault that had an in absentia mistress. But having visited a few other places to collect information, the upcoming war was all anyone would talk about. Raiha wanted the hidden village completed _well_ before actual war was declared, and to get that kind of speed, she had to wield the authority she typically ignored.

The woman wavered, then stepped back so that Raiha could enter the manor.

 

-

 

_The air in the market is tense; guards roam the streets out of formation, and prove themselves the worst sort of bully to those who have no means to protect themselves. If I could safely move the homeless children to the manor, I'd do it, but I doubt any of them would trust me enough to let me... Funny, considering how I used to be one of them, so very very long ago..._

_I've gotten the carpenters commissioned, with some extra incentive to make them work as fast as safety allows. It helps that they know they'll be working with Gorons. I said as little as I could get away with, playing the eccentric recluse to the hilt. Hopefully, they won't think to ask further questions._

_I suppose I'm stalling now; I want to search the castle from top to bottom for Idoro, but I have to do it in such a way that no one sees me. Especially not other Sheikah. While I know Impa will not be too suspicious, some of the others currently about their duty will._

_I should go._

 

-

 

Secret tunnels were such useful things, especially when she was plainly the only person who knew anything about them. The dust was layered thick, with no sign of footprints on the floor, or handprints on the walls that would suggest someone else was exploring. While she couldn't avoid leaving a trail of her own, she took pains to obscure it as best she could; a secret only stayed secret if care was taken.

Thus far she had explored around half the castle, starting with the dungeons. She had sought with all senses, including magical ones, for any trace of her friend, though she had already suspected that he would not be placed down there. Not even in the dark oubliettes, for shadows were a Sheikah's best friend, and they could walk through those as easily as they breathed.

She remembered as she searched that Idoro had not been _pleased_ to receive the assignment, but he had been... resigned to accepting it. What, she wondered, had he Seen, and why had he said nothing about it? It was still his most aggravating fault, not trusting his visions despite the fact that they were at least partially correct in some manner.

She refrained from the aggravated noise she wanted to make, and instead opted to run a hand through her dust-covered hair. All Sheikah went to serve the Royal Family, which was currently rather large. Had he been sent to some more distant branch, somewhere in the Lanayru province? If they'd sent him up that mountain of ice and snow, that would explain a lot.

Or maybe...

Raiha froze in her passage as she felt the tell-tale aura of a Sheikah slipping through shadows, and concentrated very hard on her invisibility, and lack of any presence whatsoever until they were gone. Hiding from them was _hard_ , but she could do it with some effort, and a little stubborn perseverance. It helped to remember her own Sheikah training, though she had taken great pains to avoid letting on that she had _any._

It brought to mind Sheik of the other time, and she thrust the memory away; there was no time to dwell over what she couldn't change, not when another friend she cared for could be in great trouble himself.

Her silent trek upwards led her eventually to the royal chambers and the rooms where the king's spymaster—and old and canny Sheikah that she had never met—worked. Though the rooms _appeared_ to be empty, she did not enter them directly herself; she was too dusty, and would leave too obvious a trail if she went though things. Instead, she carefully cast out her spirit to do what seeking it could, shying away from the obvious traps, and carefully probing the less conspicuous.

The office was _painfully_ clean of any obvious spy work; the official job of the spymaster was direct attendant on the current king, after all. Plus, with age came wisdom, and no doubt this office had been searched by others who sought information against the kingdom. At the moment, she cared less about the kingdom, and more about finding out where a roster of on-duty Sheikah might be hidden.

So intent was she in the search that she didn't spot the trap until she touched it, and found her spirit bound in place. She swore, quite thoroughly, though she avoided struggling against the spell. Sheikah magic, like all magic, had its weaknesses, and if she found the right spot to press against, she could free herself. If pressed, she could simply overpower the spell, but that would be like setting off a fireball at a woodworker's shop.

“So,” and the creaking old voice made her stop her searching of magical ties and focus on the elderly person who had stepped smoothly from the shadows. “A spirit seeks something from a spy?”

 _A spirit seeks information about a friend,_ she retorted, instinctively understanding that this old Sheikah would hear her. _Because that friend has been missing for almost a year, and the spirit is tired of waiting around._

The Sheikah's form was swathed in robes that hid any sign of their gender, and their face was smooth, androgynous. One eye was covered by a patch, while the other focused firmly on the trap which she had foolishly sprung.

“Would the spirit like to talk in person?” they asked genially.

 _The spirit does not believe that the Sheikah would trust them if they spoke in person,_ Raiha replied. _The spirit seeks only the knowledge of Idoro of the Kakariko tribe._

“Aaahhh... The spirit must have traveled far, seeking that one. And perhaps the spirit is as suspicious as the old Sheikah who questions them. Would the spirit like to hear a story?”

_Do I have a choice?_

“If the spirit is whom I suspect, then I would think you could break the trap which bind you. But you are ever cautious and wary, guarding something far more precious, aren't you? You see, Impa has spoken with me in regards to many things from the Kakariko tribe. Wouldn't you prefer to have the news in person?”

Raiha hesitated, considering the proposition.

“You have little reason to trust me, I am aware,” they said as the silence stretched. “And with your available, if hidden, power, you could be a great ways away. Or you could be somewhere in the market, after those extravagant purchases of time and lumber from the Carpenters' Guild. I approe of that, by the way; a secondary, more hidden village for those who cannot, or even those who will not, fight is a good use of the money you have accrued over the long centuries.”

 _You have me at a disadvantage, which does not inspire trust, Spymaster,_ Raiha replied flatly, feeling chilled.

They chuckled a little.

“I share Idoro's gift of foresight,” they replied. “Which is as it ought to be, considering I am one of his parents. Does that ease your mind any?”

_...not really. But I acknowledge that I have little choice in the matter. Release me, and we can convene in... one hour._

“One hour it shall be, lady. But where, then shall we meet? Will you come to me?”

_I'll be in the library._

The spymaster nodded, and made a slight gesture. The bonds over her spirit fell away... all save one. Raiha looked at it for a long minute, then snapped it with a sound of annoyance.

 _Don't try me, Spymaster_ , she warned. _I am not in the mood. One hour, the library._

She popped swiftly back into her body, and made her cautious way out of the castle. Once she was reasonably assured of her personal safety she headed back to the inn where she had rooms rented, washed and changed into clean clothing, and then returned to the palace the normal way; by the city streets.

It was not quite an hour when she stepped into the library, having been escorted there by a wary and suspicious guard. As always, the racial markings of Gerudo—brown skin, reddish hair, and golden eyes—made her stand out. The lack of skulking, or her brisk attitude always tended to make them _more_ suspicious; a Gerudo _not_ around to steal or seduce? What sort of blasphemy was that?!

Even with the sigil ring on a chain around her neck, she was still considered suspect, though this was probably the first time she hadn't been accused of stealing it from the rightful _Hylian_ duchess. Either someone was learning, or one of the previous idiots had actually managed to write down a description of Eldin's duchess. Either way, it helped just enough, and she was quite happy to sit in a reading nook with a few books and some snacks to tide her over until the spymaster arrived.

They did so with little fanfare, though if Raiha had not been paying close attention to her surroundings, she probably would have missed it. One moment the chair opposite her small table was empty, the next it was occupied.

“You are very punctual,” they said.

“I try not to keep anyone waiting, nor play games of words,” Raiha replied, setting the book aside. “All I want is to know what happened to Idoro.”

“No concerns about reporting your appearance?”

“Please. My network and your network often collude, and it's plain that he's not here. Where did you send your son?”

“Ahhh.... you are refreshingly blunt,” they sighed a little, and picked up a small cup of tea. “Unfortunately, I was not the one who sent him. He chose to go himself, and it has been too long to think him anything but dead.”

“ _Where_?”

“He made the mistake of letting Tores know of his desert vision. Tores immediately ordered him to confirm it for himself.”

Raiha's breath caught briefly.

“We are to obey, you see,” the spymaster said quietly. “We give counsel and wisdom, but ultimately, we obey when the Royal Family gives an order. Personal feelings must not get in the way...”

“So when this war comes, and the Royal Family stands divided, so to will the Sheikah,” Raiha said shortly, getting to her feet.

“Yes. That will most certainly be the case.”

“On what ground will you fight, spymaster?”

“...I believe it is almost time for my retirement,” they said thoughtfully. “Perhaps I will avail myself of your village.”

“It won't be my village. It'll be a Sheikah hiding place.”

“Of course, of course.”

“...and you would be welcome,” Raiha said, albeit a little grudgingly.

They chuckled a little, and Raiha turned to leave.

“Be careful in your seeking,” they warned. “Which is more important; the world, or one person?”

“Sometimes, saving one person saves the world.”

 

-

 

_I did not expect to need to return to the desert to find Idoro, but it seems that is where the idiot had gone; chasing visions of danger because he actually reported what he said to Tores._

_Perhaps I was a bit_ too _encouraging when I told him to tell someone who would listen. Tch._

 _Save one person, save the world... it sounds so optimistic._ Idealistic. _Why did I say such a ridiculous thing?_

_I suppose I was thinking about Gan when I said it... I still don't know the full ramifications of taking him from the tribe. Clearly another boy was born, and is being molded into their king. Raised by those old hags again..._

_Speculation gets me nowhere. If Idoro is in the desert, and still alive, I'm dragging his ass out, whether he likes it or not. It's not like my people have the numbers to engage in anything_ but _diplomacy right now anyways... But they'll still capture and execute any male intruder they find._ After _using him as breeding stock, if he's fine enough._

 _I'll have to return to Kakariko first, to let Darunia and Gan know that I'm going to be away for a long time. Gan's going to be upset... But if I find Idoro, that will be the first_ good _news we've had in a while._

_And we could certainly use some of that..._

 

-

 

Getting into the desert without magic took climbing tools and a degree of dexterity that most Hylians lacked. Not for the first time, Raiha blessed the fact that she had been remade instead of reborn; it had allowed her to retain her skills and improve upon them. True, climbing a cliff was hardly her idea of fun, but it was the quietest way to get into the desert without being spotted.

It seemed that, in the past decade, her people had also ceased their patrolling of the edge of the desert. All the more advantage for her...

It didn't make her any less cautious, however; she still froze at the sound of wind pushing rock, listening hard for footsteps of any sort. The subtle scrape of dead branch against sand made her look upwards into the star-studded sky to make sure there were no silhouettes peering over the edge. Getting into the desert itself made her catch her breath as the sand and stone stretched out before her; gone were any signs of the shrublike plants that had once dotted the edges of the mesa. The dead branches of several fruit-bearing bushes lay scattered and broken at her feet, and she picked her way through with care for their spiny thorns. Of the tough desert grass, only bare handfuls were in evidence.

True, these were on the border between the two lands, but there had always been some tending of them before. What had changed about the Gerudo to have them abandon even the meager hope such things had always offered?

Initially she had thought to slip in physically, but these dead plants chilled her, and made her revise her plan. Instead, she slipped her spirit free and flew across the sands, seeking Sheikah magic among the bright fires of the Gerudo.

There were depressingly few of those as it was, and despite herself, she flowed through the compound, feeling more and more worried. Something we _definitely_ wrong here. While spirit slipping was not a common trait, there should have been at least a _dozen_ of her people who could have seen her stepping from light source to light source, even if they couldn't have directly identified her. Not a single one of them looked up. The air among her people was one of pain and grief, with a simmering underfeeling of fear and rage.

Of the two witches who's lives she had intended to overturn as much as possible, there was neither sign nor sense. That in and of itself was worrying; Koume and Kotake may have used their daughters for their magic, to extend their lives, but at the same time, Raiha had a hard time imagining the tribe _without_ their influence.

A spot of darkness was found in one of the lower levels, the dungeon area, but it was not the smooth darkness of Sheikah shadows. It was a rippling, angry darkness that she shied away from instinctively; it seemed to draw all magic into it, and she had no desire to feed something that felt so malevolent.

She slid out again, hovering over what had once been a proud, defiantly happy people, and wondered what had happened. Was there something she could do about that darkness? As much as she had rejected their ways, the simple truth was that she was _still_ Gerudo, and it hurt to see her people like this.

With a mental sigh, she made herself turn away, and flitted to the prison. Her people would never accept her help, not after she had kidnapped their original king. She could do nothing for them now...

She found Idoro at last, barely alive, chained to a rock outcropping not too far from the prison. His skin was burned red and blistering from over-exposure to the sun, and even as a spirit she could sense his readiness for it to simply end. His hair hung lank and unkempt in his face, but at her approach, he managed to lift his head enough to make the hair move aside.

Raiha felt a jolt that went all the way through, and back to her body. His nose had been badly broken, and his eyes gouged out; long ragged lines, like claw marks, crossed his face at sharp angles, and some still wept blood.

He tried to speak, but all that emerged was a pained croak; it made her heart ache to know that he had been this foolish, this brave...

 _I am not far_ , she said to him, reaching out a spectral hand to press energy into him. _I will be with you soon._

Idoro let his head hang down again, and she fled with all due speed back to her body. It ached from being in the same position for so long, but she ignored it, flaring magic to soothe the stiffness and soreness away.

_My children, I required aid!_

At any other time, she would have allowed for more caution, but Idoro was dying, was painfully close to death despite the breath of hope she had just given him. If he was to live, she could not care for stealth.

Power flowed into her, and she put it to immediate work as she took off running across the hot sands; it shielded her from the strength of the sun, and provided a limitless energy that she would pay for once she no longer had need of it. It also made her stand out like the moon in a starry sky, which meant she had to be swifter than usual; she dared not wait and draw the attention of that hungry darkness at the heart of the Gerudo compound.

Raiha scrambled over sand dunes and rocky outcroppings, caring little—for once—about high drops that she leaped over. Bolstered as she was, the falls meant little to her, other than being inconvenient wastes of the limited time she had left.

Luck remained with her, though she was not so sure she would call it that; she arrived at Idoro's outcropping as the sun reached noon, and he was still alive. Somehow. Skidding to a halt, she first when to work on the chains that bound him to the rock, snapping them with magic instead of bothering to undo the spells as well as the mundane locks, and caught him before he could hit the ground. He moaned with the pain, and she found that her people—or whoever had beat him—had been _very_ thorough.

She forced the anger away; it was unproductive. Instead she carefully let him have sips of water, and turned her attention to the worst of the wounds. Even a magical teleport could be detrimental to someone this injured, and she hadn't come this far, or spent this much time looking for him to have him die on her in the end.

Internal bleeding was halted, broken ribs were carefully set back into place with the delicate touch of magic; wounds that threatened to turn septic were purified and healed, and the sun slowly westered as she worked to get him into a state that was—at the least—fit for teleportation. The fact that he kept breathing, even if it was ragged and raspy, helped to motivate her.

So much power, she knew, would attract the darkness from the Gerudo compound, so she worked with as much speed as care allowed. As the sun reached the edge of the sky, twilight coloring the air, she felt the shadows stirring with something that was not welcoming, and made a snap judgment; Idoro wasn't fully healed, but he was stable enough now that taking him back via spell wouldn't cause further harm.

With a flare of light and power, they left the desert, and that hungry darkness, behind.

 

-

 

_I am glad of my network of contacts now. Nayru knows I could not have carried Idoro back on my own while also fighting off the less-pleasant denizens of the plains. Praise the flames of Din that Londa suspected something was up and had Milon standing by with his milk cart._

_As much as I don't enjoy using the manor, we've taken shelter here for now; I slept a full day after releasing the power my children loaned to me... Idoro, fortunately, has not worsened. His prognosis, as much as I can give one, is positive at the moment..._

_Thank you, Farore, for this small bit of luck._

_His wounds are still grievous; I don't know that I can regenerate his eyes, and the damage to his throat and voice are catastrophic... I was forced to heal his injuries without as much care as possible, and I fear to rebreak the bones to reset them. It may well be that he can never walk again due to my hasty decision._

_I hope he forgives me my selfish choice..._

_It's funny. I have lost so much in my life, yet I have such trouble letting go. A wiser choice might well have been to help Idoro pass on instead of all this work and time to heal him. But he has so many years worth of life left._

_I don't know if my choice was correct. All I know is that I have a lot of work left to do; a war still to prepare for, a son to reassure, a lover to heal, and a people to evacuate as need arises._

_I'll ask Darunia to send Gan with an escort here. He is not a healer, nor will he ever be, but borrowing his magic to help Idoro will be easier on me than taking from my Light Spirits. Right now, they're going to need all the power they can preserve to protect the land._

 

-

 

She glanced up from her writing as Idoro stirred, then put her journal away as one hand groped about in confusion.

“Relax,” she said quietly. “You're safe.”

He reached towards her voice, and she caught up his hand in both of hers. His grip was almost as frail as the rest of him, weakened from malnutrition and exposure. Seeing him like this, she wanted to yell at someone, but who was there to yell at? Him? He had been following his Sheikah oath, and his own promise to her that he would speak his visions to someone. True, he had chosen _badly_ about who to speak to, but there was no point in scolding him about that.

“You're safe,” she repeated. “We're in a safe place where you can rest and recover from your injuries. I'll do what I can to help you heal, though... well...”

He tried to speak, but all that came out was a mangled sort of croak. She grimaced to see his face twist in pain and sorrow, and freed a hand to pick up the cup of water that she'd had waiting for just this moment.

“I won't lie, Idoro. Your injuries are severe. I don't know if you'll ever see, or speak, again. Or even walk. I had to make some hasty choices to get you out alive. You're welcome to hate me for what I cannot do... but that energy would serve you better in concentrating on your own healing. Now,” and her tone went from gentle to brisk, “I have some water here with infusions for dulling the pain and helping you sleep. I've called in a doctor from the nearby village who will help me reset the crooked injuries, so that we can make them right. Will you drink the water?”

It took her a moment to realize that Idoro was drawing letters on her palm with his finger. Her name, she realized, over and over. But she couldn't tell if it was a request, joy, or sorrow.

“I'm here,” she said finally. “Please, Idoro, drink and rest. If there's something to tell me, it can wait for you to recover.”

The writing stopped, and he heaved a faint sigh, before carefully turning his head so that she could set the cup to his lips. He drank, made a face at the sharp, bitter taste, and then quickly subsided to the drugs.

Once she was certain he was asleep, she brought out a different writing pad, and began her letter to Darunia while she continued to wait for the doctor to arrive.

 

-

 

_It's not much of a fourteenth birthday gift, but Idoro has recovered enough that he's started hobbling around his room. It tires him quickly, since most of his body is still in the process of healing what it can of the damage, but Gan seems happy anyways._

_Idoro's eyes are a lost cause, but his voice has recovered enough to tell me that he's okay with that. I hate that I can't bring him back to the way he was..._

_No. I could if I was willing to use the light of the spirits. They would allow it, most assuredly, but I cannot bring myself to do it. I hate myself for choosing to protect the land over healing someone so important, but I am making that choice._

_He hasn't recovered enough to speak for long intervals, but in bits and pieces, he's been telling me what happened to him out in the desert._

_He was caught early on in his investigations. I wish he'd come to me first... I could have warned him about Gerudo magics and skills. He was imprisoned for a while, held by chains that canceled out magical skills, and... used, as I had expected. Idoro is an attractive man. It's hardly shocking that they would do such a thing in hopes of children._

_The fact that he lets me touch him, even if only to help tend to him, is a great relief to me. My hands are the same sort of slim and strong that most of my people share._

_The guards spoke carelessly before him, bragging of their king, and the powers of Koume and Kotake. I imagine at first the idea was to throw him out into the desert once they'd finished with him, but something changed when the two witches saw him. He was fed more properly, and given the chance to bathe, admittedly while being watched, but still._

_And then they took him farther down below the compound, to rooms that even I did not know existed. He met the boy-king, a child three and some years younger than Gan, with eyes that were cold and angry. The witches then... used his ability as a Sheikah, somehow. Manipulating it to open some sort of seal and releasing something colder than ice, and stronger than any poe. Bodiless power, but terrifying..._

_Is this what happened to Ganondorf in that other life? Was he possessed by this angry soul?_

_The witches seemed to understand then that they might have made a mistake in releasing the spirit, and gave of themselves in an attempt to protect the boy-king, but to no avail. While the spirit was weakened, it was not bound, nor was it defeated. It took the boy's body, and then began the work of making sure Idoro could tell no one of what he had seen, heard, and sensed._

_This information.... I do now know what to make of it. It horrifies me. It makes me question_ everything _I thought I understood._

_I am afraid. I wish Link was here now. Or Sheik. Din bless, but I could use their practicality right now instead of my own panic. Or even just Link's ability to use the Master Sword... though I know he would balk at killing a child. It makes me sick to even consider it._

_If the sundering takes place, will the Triforce of Power go to Gan as I had originally thought, or will my interference ensure that it goes to this nameless boy, possessed by darkness and evil?_

_What do I do?_

 

-

 

Logically, she had known that someone would have to take Gan's place, and events would have to continue on until the sundering. Otherwise, Link would return to a different line, and this one would remain—theoretically—at peace. But she had been placed in this one, altering it drastically already. _Would_ he still return to this line at all?

She closed the journal and put it away, then rested her head in her hands as she tried to calm the racing thoughts; parts of her demanded action, demanded that she take this threat and _deal with it_ , protect her people from this last debilitating swing that was their doom. Parts of her spoke of caution; wait and see. Listen and learn.

“Mom? Are you okay...?”

She jumped, and was out of her chair so fast she almost tripped on the thing, hands falling to the places where her weapons would have been if she'd been wearing them.

Gan stared at her with wide eyes; at fourteen, he now matched her height, and she knew he would grow so much taller than her soon. Despite this, and her constant absences, he still came to her first for practically everything.

She forced herself to breathe evenly, and relaxed from the defensive stance.

“I... I'll be fine.”

Her smart son narrowed his eyes at her.

“That means you're _not_ fine now,” he pointed out, his tone just shy of accusing.

Despite herself, she had to smile.

“Well, you wouldn't be incorrect,” she replied. “But it will pass. I really will be fine.”

He pouted a little.

“You never talk about _anything_ ,” he complained.

“True. But this is something that no one else can understand. Sometimes, not even _I_ understand it,” she replied, turning to look out the window her desk was near. “To call it complicated would be an understatement of the greatest proportions.”

“Can't I help at all?”

She turned back, and smiled at him.

“Honestly, just be you, my son. That helps. Did you need something?”

“You said we'd go riding...”

“Ah, I did, didn't I? My apologies. Let's go get Fleetfoot and Surewind, then.”

The prospect of a ride was definitely uplifting; while she didn't dislike the manor, she hated the deferential air that the servants adopted. Some days it was just shy of actively hostile, especially when confronted of the idea of Gan being her heir. Timeless Gerudo were one thing, but a _male_ Gerudo? Such blasphemy!

She smiled a little sardonically as they headed for the small stable. Servants were the strange sort; they seemed to be wedded more strongly to societal prejudices than she had initially assumed. Bad enough to have an absentee duchess, but when she _did_ arrive, she threw the entire routine of their lives into chaos by bringing in a half-dead Sheikah, and then a Gerudo teen.

They had no idea what she planned for the inevitable war. That was going to be fun to oversee.

They took the horses out with minimal tack; just a saddle blanket, and headstall sans bit. Gerudo riding was mostly about body language, knees, hands, feet, and words. It was what made them the best horsewomen in Hyrule; working _with_ horses, accepting their natures and spirits instead of breaking them.

She glanced sideways as they cantered along beyond the lands of the manor, and smiled to see Gan's delight. There really was nothing like a good ride to clear the mind, and letting the wind rush through and around her helped her to blow away the troubling thoughts.

She had no real choice in the matter; if she went and challenged the boy-king, who would take the place of making the time move the right way? She was ruthless, but her role was _protector_. Defender. Not destroyer. She would no more attack the Great Deku Tree for the Spiritual Stone than she would freeze the Zora.

But she could prepare for the events to be either late, or early. The malevolent shadow that had possessed the angry child suggested that she might well see him before the true end of the war.

Gan whooped as he jumped a fence, laughing as Surewind splashed down into a puddle beyond. His honest, innocent joy made her smile a little. He was _almost_ old enough for the job she wanted to give him... but she needed to discuss it first with Impa, and Impa was in the Sheikah village with her father, acting as witness to his last weeks of life.

“Mom! Kargarok!”

She glanced up to see the leather-winged creature as it dove at her, then slid half-off Fleetfoot, clinging to the horse's mane to dodge the sharp beak. Gan's arrow impacted the bird, sending it tumbling as she pulled herself upright, and she gave him a proud smile.

“Your archery _has_ improved.”

“Well, I had an awesome teacher,” he said with a cocky grin.

“You did indeed,” and she chuckled a little, since she herself had been his sole teacher for everything Gerudo. “We might as well bring it back with us; it could come in handy for the future.”

 

-

 

_Idoro swears up and down that he is well enough to be moved now, and he wants to visit this hidden village that is almost completed. I don't know if he says this because he knows it's where I'll want him to go once the fighting begins, but I have to admit, I need to visit and make sure everything is working properly anyways._

_Gan is excited to come as well. He doesn't yet realize that he's much too young to fight in the coming war; all hew knows are the 'glories' of such a thing. The tales that come after that make war sound so appealing always leave out the truth of what war is._

_War is a horror. I do not look forward to its ever-hastening arrival._

 

-

 

“It's... kind of tiny, Mom,” Gan said doubtfully, surveying the would-be village.

“It doesn't have to be huge,” she replied absently as she kept a watch over Idoro, who leaned heavily on his cane as he carefully felt his way around. “It's only a temporary measure until the war ends, mostly for the children and the elderly who cannot fight. Hopefully also for the injured, once that starts happening.”

Idoro's scarred face turned up to the sun as it came over the lip of the protective mountains, and she saw a smile cross his face, the first in months. It broke her heart just a little to see how sad it was.

“Besides, it's bigger now than it was when I first asked Darunia to find me a bolt hole,” she continued after a moment, making herself look away from her former lover to inspect the village herself. “It's defensible, there's not much around it that a warring faction might want, and all else fails, you can collapse the tunnel to prevent people from trying to invade.”

“You have thought of everything, haven't you?”

The former spymaster, Spirie, melted out of the shadows with a cackle for Gan's startled oath. Raiha just sighed a little, and glanced sidelong at the elderly Sheikah.

“That's my job,” she said with a dry look. “Just like yours seems to be twitting my son every chance you can get.”

Spirie just laughed as Gan grumbled a bit.

“Can't blame an old person for their quirks,” they said with a smirk. “You did well with my sons and granddaughter, I thank you for your care.”

Now Raiha shrugged, feeling abruptly awkward, and looked back across the village.

“This place will be of much use in the future,” they said thoughtfully. “Do you, perchance, have the Sight, to know to build such a place?”

Raiha snorted a little.

“Not hardly. I just have... experience. Besides, in war, everyone needs a go-to-hell plan.”

“Who's gonna lead this place, Mom?” Gan asked. “You?”

She snorted again, and shook her head.

“Not hardly, my son. I'll have other things to do. I've spoken about this with Impa, and she agrees; you're the best option.”

The fourteen year old nodded absently, then jolted, and turned to her in shock.

“ _Me_?”

“Yes, you.”

Beside them, Spirie cackled softly.

“The council of elders won't like that,” they said.

“They don't have to like it,” Raiha retorted. “Impa's already approved of it. Plus, I paid for everything here, so it's technically _mine_ , and I'm just loaning it to your people. Putting my son in charge will be good for everyone.”

“But... Mom, I wanted to help you with-”

“ _No_ ,” she cut him off firmly, turning to look at him. It hadn't been three months since his birthday and already he was two inches taller than her. Looking up into amber eyes that were shocked, confused, and a little hurt, she gentled her tone. “Gan, war isn't like the stories you hear. War is a vile, nasty thing; it takes lives and destroys land. It ruins alliances, and decimates everything it touches. And this war, this will be a civil war; the king and his cousin aren't going to shake hands and make nice after this. There will be no 'enemy army' to win glory from, to protect the land from. There will only be families fighting and torn apart, skies blackened with smoke as villages are torched, and screaming.”

“You're too young yet to be a soldier anyways, lad,” Spirie added. “Size and strength notwithstanding, you must be of age to join as even the lowest foot soldier in the army. And let's not forget that the Hylians don't look favorably upon your race. If you present yourself to them, one side or the other would suspect you of being a spy, and you might well be imprisoned, no matter how infamous your mother is.”

He looked from one to the other, and Raiha could see teenage stubbornness warring with the trust that she had spent years building up to. And made a hasty, uncomfortable decision.

“If you still want to help, when you're seventeen, you can start coming with me, assuming the war hasn't ended by then,” she said.

“I can?”

“Yes.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Spirie shaking their head, and ignored them. At seventeen, Gan would be closer to his more intimidating height, and he would have at least two years worth of experience running this place. Maybe by that point he would see why she wanted him to stay safe and protected.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Four:

War

 

_It's official. War has been declared by Tores. Against Dalfnes._

_The nobility who are spoiled and soft have mostly sided with Tores; they want to keep their cushy lifestyles. The working class and peasants, however, they side with Dalfnes. It makes for uneven fights, I can say that much with certainty. People with minimal training against professional soldiers... My tents are full with the wounded and dying._

_I have ordered my manor to be opened to refugees, with an emphasis on children whose families have been decimated. I am not neutral in this fight either; I choose to side with Dalfnes, and will be the head of his doctors and healers. Impa, fiercely resolute, is his spymistress, as well as his personal guard._

_Kakariko has been all but abandoned; the able-bodied adults splitting between those who follow their oath to the letter, and those who follow the heart of it. Most of those who follow the letter are on Tores' side out of duty, no matter what their hearts tell them. The rest stand with Dalfnes in a bid to reform the kingdom itself. The very young and the very old are under my son's care in the hidden village, marked only one two maps. Mine and the one Impa carries._

_Thus far, the Zora and the Goron have remained strictly neutral, and I have told Dalfnes that I will not attempt to sway them. If he wants their help or even just their favor, he must court them himself. With Kakariko empty, the way is clear to the Gorons, at the least. The Zora, I think will be swayed to neither side; in their minds, water is for all, and they would no more stopper up the source than they would poison their fish._

_Gan has accepted his role more thoroughly with Impa's overt approval. Idoro's approval, and Spirie's support help even more. It will teach him how to be a good,_ helpful _leader._

_I feel, sometimes, as though I am preparing him for the day he returns to the desert to take back the Gerudo people. I don't know whether the idea is appealing, or disheartening._

_I only hope that he grows strong and wise, to temper his hot-headedness. I fear that he will allow his romantic notions about war to blind him to the truth..._

_Two years._

_What will he think when he visits the healers tents with me?_

 

-

 

“How long do you think this war will continue?” Impa asked quietly as she worked alongside Raiha in the healer's tent.

“Unless we can get an assassin in for Tores, this has the potential to drag out for a _long_ time,” she replied grimly as she tallied up the supplies they had used that day. “At best, I expect five years worth of this damage, if not more.”

“...so long?”

“Unfortunately so. Until the nobles start feeling the pinch of war where it hurts most, I don't see them shifting sides. And you know most nobility doesn't think of how this harms the peasantry, or the regular working class... Tores even less so. Even Dalfnes has that blind spot in his thoughts about the war.”

It had been three months already since the official declaration of war, spurned by something Dalfnes had witnessed at the palace that had led to him attacking Tores then and there. The fighting had.... spread from that point. What Dalfnes had witness, he refused to say, and had ordered his Sheikah to keep silent about it as well, which left Raiha in the dark.

Still, it was _somewhat_ good to have that particular bubble of tension popped; the fighting was hell, the _waiting_ was hell... but there was no longer the cold anticipation of knowing hell was coming. No, now it was fully in evidence, and they were scrambling to defend territory from one moment to the next.

“The people love him,” Impa said firmly, quietly.

“Love is all well and good, but the more we lose, the less support we'll have,” Raiha countered crisply. “You need to convince Dalfnes to release some of your people from guard duty so that they can train the people we _do_ have. I've already talked to Kirell; she's agreed that the staff I have are capable of handling everything but the worst of the injuries. Archery is my field of choice.”

“...we have to double up to protect everyone, then...”

“It's that or let these people get slaughtered,” she said bluntly. “Even if the guards start to defect, they'll be faced with suspicion at best, and outright hostility at worst. I certainly wouldn't trust them at the moment, considering who they've chosen to follow.”

“What we need are the knights,” Impa sighed a little.

“Good luck getting them down from their mountain,” Raiha snorted in reply. “Snowpeak is so isolated, I wouldn't expect them to show up until we're three years into this mess, and that's at the earliest.”

“You really have no faith for the people in positions of power,” came a faint rumble from behind.

Raiha turned as Impa dropped to one knee; Dalfness stood there in casual tunic and hose, a frown on his Hylian face.

“When people in positions of power stop _abusing_ that power, then I might have a reason to have faith,” she retorted, hands on her hips.

He sighed a little, and claimed her neglected stool, absently waving a hand for Impa to stand up again. She did, almost immediately falling in at his shoulder, which he waved away almost irritably.

“I'm within reach of the most powerful mage in the kingdom,” he said shortly. “I need no nursemaid.”

Impa hesitated momentarily, then nodded a little and returned to counting bandage boxes, tallying them up on the board she'd set aside. Raiha frowned a little at the man, studying him with moderate concern.

As far as Hylians went, he was not unattractive; his blond hair was cut in the militaristic fashion, so short that the golden strands would stand straight up, even when they were matted with sweat from being beneath his helmet all day. His normally ruddy skin was sallow, and dark circles hung under blue eyes.

“You haven't been sleeping again,” she accused. “How many times do I have to tell you that proper sleep is important for a warrior?”

“At least once more, I suppose,” he said, thin lips quirking into a tired smile. “As always.”

She rolled her eyes a little; he wasn't bad, as far as Hylian men went, but like almost every one she'd chanced to meet, they always seemed to find a thrill in trying to flirt with her.

“Unless you're dying, I don't have time for you. I'm in the middle of the necessary supply count,” she said tartly.

She could see Impa's somewhat appalled expression out of the corner of her eye, and mentally shrugged. She had agreed that this man would make a better king, but she was in no way inclined to encourage ridiculous flirtations.

“You're one of the very few people who can talk like that and get away with it,” he said mildly.

“I'd like to see someone stop me,” she retorted, checking her list against the amount of bandaging left in the box she was going through. “ _Including_ you.”

“Must you be so hostile?”

“Yes. You're interrupting me, and you seem to think you're doing me a favor with it. I laid myself out plainly enough when we met, and that stance will not change, no matter how you badger.”

She heard him sigh, and remove himself from the stool. Part of her wary, watchful self tensed. Many Hylian males had a problem with the word no; if he tried to press her, she would not hesitate to hurt him. But no, he just nodded a little to her and exited the 'supply room' of the tent, in the direction of those wounded men who would take heart from their would-be king's appearance.

“Tell him that he needs to marry a Hylian,” Raiha said, slanting Impa an annoyed look. “Not harass me.”

“I believe it's been brought up,” Impa replied with a resigned expression. “Several times.”

“Hn. Tell him I'm infertile. It even has the benefit of being truthful.”

Impa almost dropped the box she was holding in surprise as Raiha snickered a little. Tweaking stuffy Hylians—and the Sheikah _were_ Hylian, even if their eyes were all a uniform red—was always amusing.

“ _That_ would be improper!” the Sheikah woman said after a long, stunned moment. “He knows you have a son, anyways.”

“Yes, yes, but you and all your people understand that Gan is adopted, not mine by blood. It makes no nevermind to the heart, he is very much my son there and I his mother, but we share no common blood. The resemblance comes from being the same _race_.”

Impa sighed after a long minute and tucked the box back up among the others.

“We will, of course, continue to try and convince him to look elsewhere. The nobility that have joined him have some daughters of age...”

“Good. The sooner he's out of my hair, the sooner I can concentrate on how to best help the efforts.”

Besides, this realm needed Zelda. Once Zelda was born, then Raiha would be able to relax, if only a little. And there was no chance in _any_ time that she would be the one to bear the princess of destiny.

“Also remind him that he'll get no help from me concerning Zora or Goron. I'll bear messages, but I will not talk him up to them. He'll have to do that on his own.”

Impa just nodded, and Raiha turned her attention back to her list.

 

-

 

_This war is going to fundamentally change the shape of Hyrule once again, I think. I wish I could get involved further, but when I think I should try and assassinate Tores myself, or even just go to the front lines, I feel that creeping, threatening weariness that warns me I am too close to changing this line beyond what is allowable._

_I hate it._

_I love Hyrule, as much as her nobility has betrayed and used me. The land is wonderful, is_ brilliant _, and if I could, safely, I would bring over as many of my people as possible. The desert is now as much a prison as it is a home... and probably worse with that strange spirit that took over their replacement for Gan._

_Even that scrap of information has me worried. If this war was not so immediate, the danger not so pernicious, I would dare to go and observe for myself._

_I cannot. These farmers need training, and tending. These people need bolstering. Here I am, and here I must stay. If nothing else, I promised to help train them in archery and horse riding, as well as care for the wounded and dying._

_Tores draws most of his people from the Faron and Lanayru provinces, and I can do little about that. Eldin province seems inclined to follow my lead, however; more people come to Dalfnes' camp daily. I suspect that soon enough, Darunia will lend his people—or at least some of them—to Dalfnes' efforts, but thus far, the war remains between the Hylians, and involves no other race._

_I don't know how long that will last._

_On the bright side, Dalfnes finally seems to have taken the hint I applied with a very large cinderblock... verbally, of course. I cannot, and will not,_ ever _, consider him as more than someone who ranks above me. The cessation of flirtatious conversation helps me to put up with him; he has a good mind for tactics, and I admit, he is a better politician than Tores was. He_ listens _to the people he's assigned very specific jobs to, and does what he can to help with them._

_Power will change him, as it changes everyone... but growing complacent will only matter when it comes time to decry this second Gerudo king. Link's voice, added to Zelda's and my own, will undoubtedly sway the matter._

_I hope._

-

 

“So, he's finally going to talk to Darunia on his own terms?” Raiha asked as she changed the bandages on Impa's injured arm. “It's only taken him a year...”

“Given the stalemate we are thus far engaged in, he believes to have the time, and the safety,” Impa nodded a little. “He... _We_ , will be going in the opposite direction of the fields of battle, with as much deliberate speed as possible.”

“Well, good luck to you both. You're going to need it.”

Now Impa sighed in agreement; it was no secret that Darunia had expressed a loud, appalled opinion about the damage the war was doing to the land and the people within it. While he had also expressed cautious approval of Dalfnes back _before_ the war, now Raiha was no longer as certain that he would have an easy time convincing Darunia to side with them.

“This would be easier, lady, if you would speak to Darunia as well.”

“No,” Raiha said shortly. “If he wants to be king over _all_ of Hyrule, he needs to prove himself to these people who are not Hylian. My being a long term ally of both parties does not mean I will pave his way. _I_ am not Hylian. I am a lone Gerudo who is the proverbial odd one out, and nothing I say or do will be to make Hylian life easier.”

“...you helped make Sheikah life easier.”

She snorted a little, carefully lifting Impa's arm to assess the injury.

“I like the Sheikah. Hylians as a whole? _Especially_ the nobility? Not as much. I'll grant you it's much more complicated than _that_ , but I'm not inclined to get into the specifics. Just... don't expect me to make everything easy. I do as I feel is right.”

Impa sighed again, and fell silent as Raiha applied some antiseptic and wound on a new bandage, then sketched a light bow and left the tent. Raiha made some notations on a board, then sat on her stool and rubbed tired eyes.

War was exhausting. Working in the healer's tents took magic and skill, and while she had plenty of both, it was draining to see these people in pain, in delirium, because she could do only o much for them. It hurt to know that the archers she trained were there because they had been shot or stabbed by Tores' own soldiers, and that she could only do so much.

She closed her eyes briefly, then shoved away the grief that threatened. Now was not the time to give in to such feelings; she would not help Dalfnes by talking to Darunia... but she would give Impa a list of points that might help the would-be-king in winning the Goron over.

With a tired sigh of her own, Raiha pulled over a sheet of paper and began to write; the sooner she finished with this, the sooner she could return to her own domicile and get some rest.

 

-

 

_I need to leave the front for a few days. The despair is getting to me, and I miss my son. He writes, as does Spirie, to tell me how things are going in the hidden village, and I think I need that breath of temporary peace to regain what balance and perspective I am losing as this war drags ever on._

_Two years... It's been such a long time since I've seen a place that didn't have pain and fear and anger..._

_I need simplicity again._

 

-

 

This far from the front, there were no signs of fighting. But there were still signs that the war was continuing, in the number of people who cast furtive glances in villages, in the number of farmers who tended fields suddenly much larger because their companions had thought glamorous war would pay more than the soil they worked. Or because said companions had been so injured in the war that they could no longer tend the fields in any manner.

It hurt her to see how much indirect damage had been done in two years. It felt both longer and shorter to her fatigued mind, and she wondered just how _she_ looked, riding slowly away from the fights that were taking place as Dalfnes contested Tores' hold over Faron province.

What she _truly_ needed, in her mind, was a chance to visit the Zora and swim in their deep pool until the stress flowed away.... but seeing her son, and the Sheikah of the village, would do well, and would not take her as far from the front.

Reaching the rock canyon, she halted the horse for a moment and looked back over her shoulder at the horizon. She was days away from the camps, but she was willing to swear she could still make out the wisps of rising smoke from the constant campfires. The horse stamped one foot restively, and Raiha allowed her to move onward, down the narrow rock canyon that would take her to the village she had built for the benefit and safety of the Sheikah.

The horse balked at the idea of entering the cave several hours later, so Raiha simply slid off and tugged her through until they reached the village on the other side.

It was, for all its farm animals, a fairly quiet village; cuckoos were allowed to roam freely enough, but cows were penned on the far side of the village to avoid the sounds of their lowing to echo through the tunnel. There weren't any dogs for that same reason, though she could see a handful of cats all hanging around in various patches of sunlight.

Several of the garden patches were being tended to by children, and those few adults that had been too grievously injured to remain on the front line. About half of the elderly had chosen to remain in Kakariko, but of those who had chosen to come, she knew a few would be teaching Sheikah legends, stories, and skills.

Her arrival was not unnoticed; she knew well that she had been watched from the moment she entered the initial canyon, by young Sheikah who had not _quite_ mastered their skills. So being met was not much of a surprise. Having to look _up_ at her son was not shocking either.

Two years had put paid to the memory of Gan's height; he was well over six feet, and she suspected he would be closing on seven before he was twenty. But his eyes were clear-sighted, and there was no sense of coldness, of danger or threat that she could remember feeling as a small child, as a teenager, so many centuries ago.

“You look well.”

“...you look terrible,” he said frankly.

To his left, Idoro sighed and shook his head.

“You still lack tact, Gan,” he said in his quiet-rasp of a voice.

“That's all right,” Raiha said with a small, tired smile. “I probably _do_ look terrible. Nayru knows I certainly feel it...”

Idoro reached out a hand, and she clasped it firmly, albeit briefly; it was a far cry from the hug she wanted, but they had both learned some painful truths before she'd left for the war. His time in the desert had been painful, and full of physical trauma of all sorts. That she could touch him at all was better than nothing.

Gan still sought permission before he carefully hugged her, and she had to smile at the timidity; he was _so_ tall now, she could hardly believe it.

“Are you gonna stay for a while, Mom?”

“As long as I can be safely spared from the field, yes,” she said with a tired sigh. “And as long as there is space for me here.”

“There's always space for you,” Idoro said softly.

“That's good. Let's go find it, and you two can fill me in on how this place is working out.”

 

-

 

_You'd never believe we were at war, coming to this isolated place. I've only been here two days, and I'm feeling much more relaxed. Gan, with the support of Idoro and Spirie, doesn't seem to be having much trouble leading this place at all. The elders might occasionally balk at some of the things he suggests, but even that is good for him; it does no one any good to always have their way._

_I admit, I had half-worried that seeing him as he is would bring back tension, but I feel a curious... lack of it. He is Gan, my son, not Ganondorf, the king who plunged this world into further chaos and blight._

_It's almost painful how few of the houses are home to adults... Most of the children here may never see their parents at all, and I fear this war will drag on for more than just the five years that was my best estimate of it ending..._

 

-

 

She glanced across the table where Gan was doing some bookkeeping of his own; the town was not, in any way, a ruinous expense, but he had taken a keen interest in the funding, and self-sufficiency of the town not long after she'd acknowledged that it was the wealth of Eldin that kept this town running. While she had never actively considered her son to be much of a scholar, the fact that he was taking such care gave her hope that some day, assuming the sundering happened as expected and her own predictions manifested, he might go back to reunite their people and be a good and proper king.

“Mom?”

Raiha blinked, and realized she'd been staring. He was giving her a worried look too.

“Sorry,” she said after a moment. “It just makes me... proud to see you're doing so well.”

Embarrassed, he scratched the back of his head, then grumbled a little as his pen caught in some of his hair.

“Your hair has grown rather remarkable in the past two years,” Raiha said, stifling laughter as he carefully disentangled the pen.

“It's a pain in the ass,” he grumbled.

“So why not cut it then?”

“...I like it long,” he confessed after a minute. “But I don't know any... I guess tricks? For making it not be in the way...”

This time she did laugh.

“Well, I suppose that's to be expected. Around here, the styles are very utilitarian; short, military short, or just long enough to be in a ponytail,” Raiha said with a grin. “And your hair wasn't nearly so long when I left. Have you been growing it out the whole time?”

Sheepishly, Gan nodded.

“Have you been taking care of it _properly_ the whole time?”

“....I've been brushing it?” he offered after a moment.

“Considering it looks something like I would expect a kargarok nest to resemble, I am not entirely sure I believe that.”

In response, he stuck out his tongue, which only made her chuckle. He certainly _looked_ tall and imposing, but underneath he really was still just a child. It was comforting.

“Are you all done with your work?” she asked.

“More or less,” he admitted. “I'm all caught up, if nothing else... Not much happens around here, other than when the Gorons bring in supplies.”

“All to the better,” she said with a faint nod. “I'll fetch a brush, and see what we've got to work with in this tangle of yours.”

He sat with far more patience than she would have expected from a teenage boy, especially one who had a semi-abenstee mother like herself. And truthfully, his hair only _looked_ like a terrible snarl; it was actually much more biddable than she had thought.

“I showed you how to braid, didn't I?”

“I watched you do it a lot, but...”

“Here, I'll show you again. And you certainly have plenty of hair to practice with.”

 

-

 

_Even though I am away, I cannot escape the fact that there is fighting still going on. Every day it seems one child or another reports that horses have been using the back road, taking the long route between warring camps. That they wear Dalfnes' colors does not inspire much confidence..._

_Gan doesn't pester me, but I know he feels wanderlust. Being stuck in this village when he wants to be out traveling, out_ seeing _Hyrule like I told him he might, it presses on him._

 _Out there, is not just death... but there is so_ much _death now that I hesitate to want to let him go. A mother's problem,I suspect... But also a wary Gerudo one, for how often do Hylians see males of our kind? What they might make of him, enemy or ally... it worries me._

 

-

 

“It feels weird, Mom,” he complained a little as she adjusted the chain that looped the forehead jewel to his head.

“It's magic, Gan. If you're going to join me eventually, I want you protected as only I can. You're powerful enough, but your shielding is abysmal, and you know it.”

She felt him huff as she carefully tightened the links; it needed to fit snug, but not tight. It had taken her some effort to find a crystal that would hold the defensive spells. She had taken a week to visit the Gorons and see what they had on offer, and the blue opal had been the best piece in the lot. It wasn't entirely what she'd had in mind, but it would do for the moment.

As long as it held the spells, that was all that really mattered. Which, it certainly did; keeping in mind what Idoro had told her about the other boy-king, she had made especially sure that the gem contained spells not just for protecting and shielding Gan's body, but for preventing anything from slipping into his mind take him over.

“Does it have to be this head-thing, though?”

“Yes.”

“Uuuuuugh.”

“And I want you to promise that you won't take it off unless you're bathing. Even then, _keep it close_. A protection amulet doesn't do you any good when it's out of reach,” she said sternly.

She didn't have to see his face to know that he was rolling his eyes in the tolerantly irritated manner of all teenagers. It was in the set of his shoulders, the curve of his spine, the way he rested on the stool as she continued to fuss with the chain, though it needed only a little straightening now.

“Okay, Mom, I promise,” he grumbled a little.

“Good. Now... let's see...”

She moved around to the front, and pursed her lips thoughtfully; opals were admittedly notorious for being easily shattered, but they were also really quite lovely stones. This one was a deep blue at it's base, with spatterings of green that veered into yellow, and glimmered with as much magic as caught light. After a moment, Raiha nodded.

“Does it fit well? It's not pinching or anything, is it?”

“No... just feels weird.”

“Well, you're getting it early too,” she said with a dry smile.

“Huh?”

“This,” and she lightly tapped the forehead gem. “While not every Gerudo wears theirs after receiving it, it's a mark of maturity and a right of passage. We women usually get our first one after we've had our first moon cycle. You're a bit young yet,” Raiha grinned teasingly, as he huffed and gave her a light push, “I was planning on waiting until you actually reached a more mature age, but... if you're going to come with me when I leave, I'd rather you have it now.”

“When you... Wait, what?!”

“It's your birthday soon, my son, and I _did_ say you could join me then. If you want to, that is,” she added, sitting down in her chair. “I won't make you come with me if you'd rather stay here and continue to help the village.”

“...what would I be doing if I came with you?” he asked.

“Certainly nothing overtly glorious,” Raiha replied dryly. “I train people in archery and horseback skills when I'm not working in the healer's tents.”

“I'm no healer,” he protested.

“No, but you have an abundance of magical energy, which, if you allow me to draw from it, can be turned to saving the lives of many more people,” she countered. “And you're hardly untrained in battle-magic. While I would _not_ like to see you on the front line, there are plenty of magical talents in the camp that need training; ironically enough, Tores' forces seem to alienate those who have magic, and there's never been enough teachers to go around.”

“...you're really going to let me come?”

She smiled a little, ruefully, wryly.

“Kiddo, if the war hadn't started, you'd have tagged along on my outings last year,” Raiha said with a dry chuckle. “I'm being a paranoid mother; I don't want to see you getting hurt, and you're still not old enough to be allowed out on your own, size and strength notwithstanding.”

Gan made a face at her, but nodded a little, then reached up and gingerly touched the stone on his forehead.

“How come you don't wear one?” he asked after a moment.

“I'm masochistic,” she said dryly. When he goggled at her, she laughed. “I'm _joking_. I don't wear one because unlike you, I am well-versed in shielding spells. It's not quite second nature, but when I need one, I can call one up at will. Every time _you've_ tried to call one up,it has a habit of exploding in your face. I'm certain you _can_ learn, with time and dedication, but there's an immediate need, right now, for everyone to do everything that they can. So...”

As if in memory, Gan rubbed the end of his nose; Raiha loved her son, but she was fully cogent of his skills and failings, and frankly, shielding was where he was weakest. While the amulet would do all the work, she did mean to teach him everything eventually, so that he wouldn't always have to rely on it. After all, someday soon, this son of hers would go seeking answers in the desert.

 

-

 

_I think Gan is beginning to understand now why I didn't want him to come to the battlefield in the first place. He's taken a rampant dislike to both Tores and Dalfnes after seeing the damages of war._

_He's marginally helpful in the healing tent, when he remembers to show up. Most of the time though, I find him either trying to teach magic—he's not the best teacher, but he_ is _learning—talking with Sheikah or soldiers, or watching the soldiers who know how to fight train. He's picking up such a mishmash of skills, I don't know whether to be proud or appalled._

_Still, theoretically these skills will help him survive._

 

-

 

“Hey, Mom, can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” she said with a tired yawn, running a hand over her face. “But sure, go ahead.”

“...why... why do people call you 'the Unchanging?'”

She blinked. Made a face. Then sighed. She'd known this day would come eventually, her son was neither stupid, nor oblivious. She had just hoped to put it off for as long as she could. She got up from her chair, stretched the kinks out of her shoulders and back, and tried to decide what she could and could not say.

Gan waited patiently; six months in the war camp, tending to wounded and teaching the untaught had matured him almost as much as protecting the hidden village had. Oh, he was still hot-headed and brash at times, but he had learned patience and thoughtfulness to balance himself out. She really was quite proud of him, even if he _did_ tend towards forgetting his shift in the healing tents because he was distracted by the formidable fighters that Dalfnes' people had become.

“Because it's true,” she said finally. “I don't age, and I can't die.”

“How come?”

“You know the story of the Triforce, yes?”

He nodded; having been immersed in Sheikah culture, if not their skills, he had heard many tales of the legendary artifact.

“And I've told you my alternate worlds theory?”

Again he nodded. Raiha sighed a little, then ran a had through her hair. She wasn't going to lie to him, but she was _definitely_ going to keep it as short and concise as possible; the less time spent dwelling on it, the better.

“When I was an actual child, my mother kidnapped me from the tribe to spare my life,” she began. “Because of this, I got involved in an adventure, and actually got to see the Triforce for myself. In my ignorance, I didn't realize that I could have protected it, and because I did not, it was sundered. It took many years and many trials before my friends and I could confront the one who had done the sundering, and that was the first time I lost my life, trying to save this world.

“The three goddesses decide that since I ended up being part of the reason it broke, I have to fix it. To that end, I was placed here, in this line, with this form. Until I repair the Triforce, I will live, unchanging.”

“But... that was a different world,” he said, confusing on his face. “How come you're _here_?”

“Because here is where I need to be. The sundering will happen here too; I can feel it. I'm hoping that by _being_ here, I can fix it swiftly.”

“...do...do you know when?”

Raiha shook her head.

“I have an approximate guess, but not a definite one,” she said, then sighed a little. “But anyways, that's the reason. Please keep it secret, Gan. Either people would believe you, and then come to test me, or they'd just laugh at you. We don't really need either reaction.”

He nodded quickly, looking troubled. Raiha smiled a little wearily, then yawned again.

“Mom?”

“Mmm?”

“Will you really let me try for soldier when I turn eighteen?”

“I'd rather you didn't,” she said honestly, “but you'll be considered of age by Hylian standards. It's your choice, my son, what you choose to do then.”

“I think.... I want to, but... but I'm kind of nervous.”

“That makes you smarter than half the people we trained in the past three years,” she replied dryly. “Fighting is a scary thing when it's not 'for fun' sparring. And the people on the other side of that field will be doing their level best to kill you, even as you try to do the same.”

“...it scares you?”

Raiha snorted a little.

“I don't like pain. Not dying isn't the same as not feeling pain. I feel plenty of pain... just because I can heal from anything doesn't mean I feel the urge to constantly put myself in harms way, Gan,” and she sighed faintly again, shaking her head lightly. “A wound that would kill someone can take me _years_ to heal from. Sometimes decades, and yes, that _is_ from experience. Now, will I take greater risks knowing I can't die? Sometimes, yes. Because when there is no other option, I will do everything I can to fix it. Even if it means spending thirty some years in a bubble in a safe place. But on the whole, if I'm not needed, I prefer to keep my head down. Pain _sucks_ , even for a healer.”

It made him laugh a little, as she'd hoped it would. He was still maturing, still trying to understand, and still hot-headed and rash. But he was a good, brave young man, and a lot of his passion was just because he wanted to do what he felt was _right_.

Even if he didn't entirely understand what right _was_.

“No more questions for now,” she said, yawning. “It's late, and I need to be up for surgery in the morning. And so do you; I'm going to need your help.”

He made a face, but obligingly headed up the ladder to the loft where he preferred to sleep. She watched him, feeling worry coiling in her gut, briefly pushing away the exhaustion. So tall now. So strong. Still her son, but she was starting to see the flashes of what he had been in that other life, that other time.

“Please,” she whispered as she got to her feet. “Please let him remain my son...”

 

-

 

 _I thought it was bad enough bringing him here, to the war camp. Now I see that knowing he will be on that field of battle, his first, is far worse. I keep myself distracted knowing that I have done all that I can, and he_ is _skilled. Strong. Protected. I have faith that he will walk off that field._

 _But I am also terrified. I feel the start of change, the looming of destiny. It's too soon. He's only eighteen,_ it's too soon _._

_Is this my fault?_

_I want to get away, but I can't. I don't know where I'd go anyways..._

 

-

 

She kept herself busy all day, doing things the 'hard' way, which was really just the magicless way. She made herself focus on the medicines that needed to be made, the bandages and boxes of supplies that needed to be counted and ordered, the people in the healing shelters—the war had gone on so long that it was turning into a town, and wooden buildings were replacing tents—that needed tending.

Raiha refused to allow herself speculation. Gan _was_ protected, by _her_ magic. And though he had protested, saying the stone wouldn't fit under the helmet, he had eventually agreed that it was better to wear it than to not. There was a high chance that he would be _fine_.

Physically, at least. He was still only a few weeks past that milestone birthday that marked the Hylian transition to adulthood, and she was more worried about his mind than any physical trauma.

She could hear, faintly, the horns and drums of battle; her time in the camp had taught her all the signals, and this one sounded heartening. The stalemate between Dalfnes and Tores had to break at some point, and these skirmishes would eventually end... and this particular battle seemed to be going Daflnes' way. If the achieved victory, they could start pressing in again, through Faron province.

News came with the return of Dalfnes and those warriors still able to walk or ride. They had bought a precious few miles, and now had a good foothold in Faron. After four years, progress was finally being made.

When Gan walked into her office, she was in the middle of packing up the necessary supplies that she would need to go with the main body of the camp. She looked up, and swallowed her alarm; blood splattered the chainmail she's asked the Gorons for—he was too tall for the more commonplace armor, and there hadn't been time to commission him that—and there were marks where swords had come close to injuring him. But none of the blood was his.

Only the grief and horror in his eyes indicated anything.

Battle was trauma. It was a hell of screams, the clashing of weapons, the feeling of someone's life vanishing. Raiha pushed her stool towards him so that he could sit, then went over him carefully to make certain that none of the blood really _was_ his.

“.... _why_?” he finally whispered.

She just shook her head a little, then put a gentle arm around his shoulders. Gan turned, and buried his face in her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her tightly. She didn't try to hush him; he needed to cry, needed to express the pain of that first fight, the fear, the anger. She just stroked his hair, and mourned the loss of his innocence.

Gerudo had many songs; song and dance were how they celebrated _everything_. After rifling through her memory, she started softly singing to him in Gelda. It didn't sound quite right without the drums to keep time, or any of the other instruments—or even the voices of her sisters, since most songs were meant to be sung by the tribe—but she sang anyways. The song was one that mourned the loss of childhood, but carried with it a thread of hope for things to be better.

Eventually his ragged breathing eased, and his grip loosened. Gan eased back, amber eyes red-rimmed, and still trickling tears. She studied him even as she dug out a handkerchief for him to use, and didn't know whether she felt relieved or worried; his eyes carried a new shadow to them, and she could only hope that he wouldn't let this shadow bury everything she had tried to teach him about life.

“The fight is as noble as a war can be,” she said gently. “We want to help the people. We want Hyrule to not buckle under the weight of tyranny. If that could have been accomplished with words, it would have been better, _maybe_. Unfortunately, sometimes, there is nothing anyone can do to prevent a fight, and that is the current case.”

“It was.... horrible,” he said softly, the handkerchief crumpled in his hand. “I don't...how can they do this?”

“Tores' people?”

He nodded.

“Because they want to defend the status quo. They don't want things to change, so they devote money and resources to make sure that it won't. People.... people are hard to quantify, my son,” Raiha sighed a little. “In every race, you will find the greedy, the lazy, the angry. You also find the righteous, the brave, the hard-working. If we think that _we_ are on the right side, well, so do they.”

“Is that why history is so... frustrating?”

She snorted a little, and kissed his forehead.

“History is written by the winner,” she replied dryly. “Naturally it tends to be skewed and lacking in factuality. No one wants to _admit_ that their side committed atrocities to win. And make no mistake, our side probably has. War is never pretty.”

“But then... why... why are you helping?”

“Because I love Hyrule,” she said softly. “Kings and queens, they come and go. But this land... this land is as much my home as the desert is. And maybe I still hold some idealistic thoughts of what this land is supposed to be. _How_ it's supposed to be. If I can bring it to that state, then I will be satisfied.”

He blinked a few times, and finally released her. Raiha smiled a little ruefully, and returned to the packing while he remained on the stool. She supposed he would be contemplating those words for some time yet.

“Mom?”

“Mmmm?”

“How much... how much longer do you think this is going to last? It's... it's already been four years.”

“Indeed,” she sighed a little. “And we've only _just_ gotten enough of a foothold into Faron territory to make a solid push further in. I don't know how much longer, Gan. I wish I did. I wish I knew _something_ good about all this...”

True, Dalfnes' proposal to Celestine, the noblewoman he'd been courting, probably counted. It meant that soon she'd be marking off the time until Zelda's birth. And after that, it would only be a matter of time before they won.

But until that moment, there was still war. Still pain and atrocity. The power of the spirits, sunk deep into the land, magnifying the magic still around, could keep rot and taint from spreading, but it was the hearts and minds of the people that needed bolstering.

She turned to study Gan, and felt sympathy; he looked so downhearted that she reached over and put her hand on his shoulder.

“No one will think less of you if you decide that soldiering isn't your thing,” she said softly. “You have become a good teacher, and there is still a need for those. Take your time to think upon it; it will take a few days, at the least, to move the mobile portion of the camp.”

“Are you going?”

Raiha nodded.

“Whatever choice you make, Gan, I'm on your side,” she said.

Finally, she saw a ghost of a smile,and relief crept into those newly haunted eyes.

“Thanks Mom...”

 

-

 

 _I don't know whether I'm grateful or not for this change. To be fair, it's nice to see green and the people in the village of Faron that we pass through_ seem _happy to see us..._

_Dalfnes' forces officially hold half of Faron after another year's worth of campaigning. He's optimistic that in another year, maybe two at the most, we'll be able to press in on the actual castle. I'm less certain about this, but from what I remember, Zelda was born two years before the war ended, and Link one._

_So perhaps he's correct and I'm just being pessimistic._

_Gan seems to have settled into what he finds a comfortable balance in handling responsibilities. He's still counted on as a soldier, but only in the hardest, direst battles; I've heard people in the camp calling him the King's Champion, and they do seem to get a moral boost whenever he's part of the fight. He spends time training other people to fight, and somehow manages to be in the healer's tents precisely when I need him._

_I hate to admit it, but he's growing up even faster than I anticipated. Part of me worries about this, because I can feel the weight of unwelcome destiny infringing on what I've tried so hard to build._

_Dalfnes has, finally, managed to convince Darunia that an alliance would be worth the effort. It's comforting to have Gorons patrolling the camps. Of the Zora, he's still hitting a brick wall, which amuses me to no end; they will not take a side because it's not their fight. And Dalfnes is a wise enough man to understand that threats would be a very_ bad _idea._

 _He has grown more mature as well. I do not know that I can count him as a_ friend _, but he listens better now that he is safely infatuated with his wife._

_Celestine, now her, I like. She loves Dalfnes with an undeniable fierceness, but she also refuses to put up with his nonsense. I suppose her family considered her an old maid, at the 'late' age of thirty, but I find that her maturity and sense work quite well, and she will indeed be a good queen._

_She also has a temper! Which is good, because some of the older nobility need to be yelled at from time to time._

 

-

 

“...and _then_ he dared to remind me, _me_ , that even if we take the throne, we'll have to have an heir or two waiting to secure it!” the noblewoman fumed. “As if I didn't _know_ that already.”

Raiha was having a rather hard time keeping a straight face. Celestine said a few words that most noblewomen pretended _not_ to know, then threw herself down in the visitor's chair in the 'office' tent, and scowled.

“So you want me to make something that helps you get pregnant,” Raiha said, trying and failing to keep the amusement out of her voice.

“...oh, just laugh, you find the whole mess funny anyways.”

“Well, yes,” and now Raiha did grin. “I'm surprised you didn't tell him where he could stuff his officious opinion, but then, I suppose that wouldn't have been diplomatic.”

“No, but I was tempted.”

 _Now_ Raiha laughed.

She hadn't expected to find friendship in Celestine, but she was rather glad of it. The woman was smart, capable, sensible, and fun. She wasn't much for war, or tactics, but Raiha had enjoyed watching her maneuver through the political mishmash of nobility, promising nothing while hearing everything. While she had been fully prepared to support Celestine, actually liking the Hylian made it a lot easier.

“So, you've been married for a year. What does seem to be the problem?”

“I'm not sure,” Celestine sighed a little. “Most nights he's exhausted, and we just sleep, but some nights are... well...”

She flushed, and Raiha laughingly held up her hands.

“I don't need every detail of _that_ ,” the redhead said with a snicker. “You track your bleeding, don't you?”

“As best I can out here, yes,” she sighed a little. “Curst aggravating thing that it is.”

“Agreed.”

“And I _know_ he's fathered illegitimate children,” Celestine added after a moment, looking not so much discomforted by the idea as annoyed by it.

“Ah. You're worried something may be wrong with _you_. Well...” Raiha stood up, and reaching out with a hand that glowed faintly gold. “Let's see then...”

The examination took only a few minutes, and Raiha frowned a little contemplatively.

“And when was your last cycle?”

“Ah... two... maybe three moons ago?” Celestine said uncertainly. “It's always been a bit erratic, skipping a moon here and there...”

“Next time, just tell the officious stuff-shirt where he can put his opinions, because you most certainly are with child,” Raiha said wryly.

“I... I am?”

“Mmhm. Somewhere between two and three moons along, actually,” and Raiha chuckled a little. “Congratulations.”

Celestine blinked repeatedly, then looked down at her stomach in bemusement.

“Oh.”

Raiha smirked a little.

“I'd recommend talking to your mother first, if you can, but if you need advice, that's what I'm here for. Or any other 'of age' healer around,” she teased gently.

“You.... I thought you adopted your son.”

“I did,” Raiha replied cheerfully. “But I'm Gerudo. I've been around _plenty_ of pregnant women in my life.”

“...this means I'll be sent away from the front, doesn't it?”

“Most likely,” she nodded a little. “You're going to be carrying the heir or heiress, and considering the fighting going on, the farther away you are, the safer you'll be. And really, I know _just_ the place to send you.”

“That is not comforting,” Celestine said with a huff.

Raiha snickered.

 

-

 

“So we're _not_ supposed to announce it until after the baby is born, and you think she'll be safest _there?_ ”

Dalfnes looked a bit wild-eyed at the end of the sentence, but Raiha only shrugged.

“One, if you announce it now, she becomes more of a target. Even here. And there'll be no hiding it once she starts actually showing. Two, it's not only the farthest place from the front, it's _populated_ by what's left of the Sheikah. You know, the people meant to be your personal guards and elite spy force,” Raiha replied tartly. “If they can't protect her, that far away, then nothing you do here will either.”

He looked to Celestine, who was sitting quietly, still absorbed in the idea that she was actually pregnant. It was a look of worry, and love, and was genuinely more reassuring than anything else Raiha had seen that particular day.

“Cel?”

The blonde woman looked up, and smiled a little in bemusement, then shrugged.

“You've said she gives the best, if tart, advice,” she said, responding to an unasked question. “I'm inclined to believe we ought to take it.”

“You're going to need to set up for a strong push soon anyways,” Raiha pointed out. “It's been six years now, Dalfnes. If this war drags on much longer, with no clear victor, someone is going to have to sue for peace, and it _won't_ be the fun sort.”

He raked a hand through his short hair and sighed.

“All right. I'll set up an escort for-”

“I'll go,” Raiha interrupted. “And I'll see if Gan wants to go too.”

“What?! But I need you both here!”

“You have plenty of capable, culpable healers and soldiers. And we need something not militaristic to do. Or well,” she amended, “ _I_ do, at least. What Gan does is up to him now. Besides, where would you rather have the best healer and warrior; sowing chaos and cleaning up messes, or making sure that your pregnant wife is safe and secure?”

Celestine made a faint sound that was almost a snort of laughter as Dalfnes scowled. Raiha just folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. After a moment, the future king threw up his hands in moderate exasperation, then sighed.

“Very well. Your point is made, Lady Raiha. I can spare none of my remaining Sheikah, and you and your son are the best we've got...”

“I'll ask him and see what he wants to do,” she said, politely stifling her smirk. “You'll know in a few hours what will happen.”

Disgruntled, he waved a hand at her in dismissal, and she left the tent, hearing Celestine giggle softly behind her.

Finding Gan was not difficult with her protection amulet on him, though she did not interrupt him when she did find him training a handful of teens that were maybe a year or two younger than he was. Not that any of them could tell; between the recently grown out beard, his height and his strength, and the air of command he had assumed naturally, no doubt they assumed he was a hardened veteran soldier, not a young man who had only just passed his twentieth birthday.

Watching him, she had to smile; he was not always _patient_ with the mistakes of the newest recruits, but while he growled, he made sure to show them, repeatedly if necessary, just how to do things right. He had somewhat more presence than Dalfnes himself, though no one would mistake a Gerudo for their future king.

Someday soon, she knew, he would go and face the desert himself. Go and find out what the desert would mean to him. She could only hope that she had prepared him well enough to survive the dangers there.

When the recruits were dismissed, she lifted a hand to get his attention, and he trotted quickly over to her, making rude gestures at a few of the soldiers who made mocking calls about his attachment to his mother. At closer range, she could see what she felt; mental exhaustion. Oh, he put on a brave face, something he had no doubt picked up from her, but he was tired.

“Mother, what brings you by?”

She was not used to the formality, but understood it; here, in plain sight, he felt he had to be reserved, restrained. So Raiha only smiled dryly, and motioned for him to follow.

“I have a proposition for you, my son, but we need to speak privately.”

He fell in beside her, and they made their way to the edge of the camp farthest from the soon-to-be battlefield. Gan flopped onto a fallen log with a tired sigh, and rubbed his hands over his face.

“It can't be good if you brought me all the way here,” he said after a moment.

“Actually, it is,” and she smiled more warmly. “Celestine is with child. Right now the only ones who know this are you, me, Celestine herself, and Dalfnes. In the interest of her safety, I've suggested that we escort her to the hidden village.”

Gan blinked several times, then startled.

“Wait, leave the front?”

“Mmhm. Until the baby is old enough to travel, at the least, though you are not required to stay that whole time.”

“...when do we leave?!”

She laughed a little, and rested a hand on his shoulder, reassured by the eager light in his eyes.

“If I can make it work, either tonight or tomorrow night. Pack light, we'll be traveling swiftly.”

He nodded quickly and made a quick clip back into camp, plainly as ready to leave the place for a short time as she was. Raiha sighed a little, letting herself relax fractionally, and pulled out a map to plot the quickest path to Celestine's safety.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Five:

Lost time

 

_I knew the war had decimated the Sheikah. I knew it logically, however. Of those in the hidden village, only five are adults; Idoro, Spirie, Ashaia, Maki, and Sanae. A double-handful of children yet remain, but they are getting to the age of training in the more dangerous aspects of Sheikah skills... and soon, even these children will be gone to the front._

_Two, maybe three years._

_Gan is more than happy to do non-soldierly things for a while; he's been repairing everything that needs it since we arrived; roofs, fences, walls, tables...he's quite the capable carpenter. It's surprising, but also amusing. Celestine keeps company with Idoro and Spirie, and also the children when they are not at training or helping me._

_I told myself Impa would not be the last,_ Sheik _would not be the last, but... I do not think there is anything I can do about this. Will Sheik even be born this time,if there will be no need for him? I never did learn anything about who bore him... Not Impa; after that last gut wound, she's lucky to still be able to walk. Bearing children is out of the question._

 _I hate this. Why does this have to be the way it is?_ Why _?_

 

-

 

Frustrated with herself, Raiha slapped the journal shut. Later, she could be annoyed with herself for this fit of emotion; the ink hadn't even dried, and the pages would be stuck together, plausibly illegible at that. At the moment, she was just frustrated.

After putting the journal away, she caught up her bow and quiver; she needed to patrol the canyon, and maybe get in a bit of hunting along the way. Celestine was safe enough with Idoro and Spirie to watch her... and Gan as well; she could hear him banging away on one of the roofs, and knew he had the perfect bird's eye view from up there.

Raiha paused for a minute to take stock of where everyone specifically was. Two of the adults—Ashaia and Maki—were overseeing the training of the four twelve-year-olds that would soon be considered old enough, by Sheikah terms, to begin work as spies. Sanae, in her wheeled chair, was showing two of the ten-year-olds what the difference between a cabbage sprout and a weed was, while the third of that group was busy planting new. Spirie and Idoro were with Celestine, helping the future queen tell stories to the three five year olds.

A glance up showed that Gan was indeed still thumping away on the roof of what should have bee a tavern, but was not just a storage area for food. The sight of him made her smile, even if only just a little. Maybe Power would not come to him, and this was all for nothing, but it was worth _something_ to know that she had at least tried, and he was someone she really _could_ be proud of. If she had been given the option, if it had been _safe_ , he was indeed a king she would have been willing to serve.

He lifted his hammer in a wave, and she waved lightly back, then headed out into the canyon. Oh, she could not patrol the whole thing in one day, no, but not much tried to settle in this out-of-the-way space as it was. And it was too long and narrow of a route to try and use as a sneak-around to attack the rear of Dalfnes' army.

At least, that was the assumption. Raiha hadn't much _cared_ for the assumption, but she had agreed that having people guard the path seemed a bit over-zealous.

So she'd asked Darunia for Goron protection instead. It might have been a boring posting, but in her mind it was better to have something and not need it, then need it and not have it. In this case, guards who could pretend to be rocks until potential enemies were upon them were _exceptionally_ useful.

Even if they didn't always succeed.

She had seen the mountain goat, steady enough on it's path. It wasn't quite big enough to feed _everyone_ , but it would certainly be good enough to drag back to the village. Focused on that, she inadvertently tuned out the soft skittering of pebbles, attributing it to the other two mountain goat that were higher up, out of bowshot range.

She had her bow ready, the arrow half drawn, when the sound that should not have been there registered properly. The twang of bowstrings.

She was not ready. The arrows hit her in multiple places, fatal on normal people, and the darkness dropped over her like a boulder.

 

-

 

Gan stared hard at the entrance to the village, feeling unease coiling in the pit of his stomach as the sun dropped beyond the rocky protection of the mountains; his mother was not the sort of person to go out for long periods of time without informing someone. When he'd seen her earlier, she'd looked only like she was going to do some hunting.

And even if she didn't _say_ something, she always left a note. There was no note in their home.

“You could stare,” and Spirie's voice made him jump almost a foot, “Or you could make your own way out and see where she might be.”

“....she doesn't like people to worry,” Gan protested.

“She's also not the type to _make_ us worry,” Spirie pointed out, their expression serious. “A powerful person can still be taken by surprise, and she has had much to occupy her of late. Go look for her.”

It was funny; he was twenty years old now, tall, strong, an accomplished warrior _and_ mage, but the thought of his mother's scathing tongue turned on him was still enough to make him cringe. He'd seen her use it all his life on others, and yes, sometimes even on himself when he needed the sharp scolding.

But Spirie was right. Raiha _wasn't_ the type to cause overt concern, mostly because she seemed—at least to his eyes—to hate being fussed about. More of that yet-unexplained past, or so he thought. He'd hoped to draw out more answers from her while they were doing this guard rotation of the future queen and her unborn children; unlike many other older folk he'd met, Sheikah included, Raiha _didn't_ talk about the past. And when she did, it was short and concise.

Which was exasperating, because really, she _was_ his mother, and shouldn't she be telling him all about how her life was anyways? Even if she lived for a lot longer than anyone else because of whatever had happened to her...

Caution and a lifetime of training had him moving carefully through the tunnel to the outside, and that was probably what saved his life. He _heard_ them before he saw them, muttering and cursing as they tried to traverse the tunnel. The pitch blackness was no trouble for _him_ , he'd walked this path so much, he knew it by heart. But from the thumps and swearing, these strangers were neither Gorons, nor being led by his mother.

Gan carefully retreated back down the tunnel, felling along the left-hand wall.

 _“It's a cave-in trigger,”_ she had said. _“Just in case.”_

 _“C'mon, Mom, you really think anyone'll find_ this _backwater area?”_ he'd snorted.

_“Better prepared than not, my son.”_

He found the stone, silently thanking his mother's paranoia, and pulled. Ahead of him, muttering turned to yells of pain and the sounds of rocks crashing one over the other as the ceiling collapsed; a mix of Goron engineering and Raiha's own magical abilities. He turned and darted back towards the village, where the remnants of his family remained.

Spirie met him at the entrance, a look of alarm and concern on their face.

“Enemies in the tunnel,” Gan said shortly, brushing rock dust from his shirt.

“It will take some time to dig us out then,” Spirie sighed.

“The Goron supplies are due in two more days,” Gan replied. “They'll dig us out.”

“Do you know if anyone survived?”

After a long, uneasy moment, the redhead shook his head, and cast an anxious glance over his shoulder.

“Well done,” Spirie said after another moment, lightly patting Gan's forearm. “I'll see if I can't find our missing lady, then... And deal with those fools who thought they might try and invade this small sanctuary.”

In many ways, Spirie was a tired elder, who had retired from active duty to live their twilight years in peace, and help maintain the village. But when they got that cold look on their face, Gan was sharply reminded that this person had been the spymaster for Tores, and had even caught his mother in her snooping. Elderly or not, they were _not_ to be underestimated.

Not that it stopped him from wanting to go with. But he was not a Sheikah, and had never been gifted with their specific shadow-walking secrets. It had never seemed _fair_ , but Raiha had only ever said that it wasn't her skill to teach, and everyone he'd asked had refused him. Some with genuine regret, others... much less so.

It was still hard to believe that most of them were gone now...

Reluctantly, Gan headed back to the large house where everyone took their meals and did what he could to stay busy. Idoro and Celestine walked—or waddled, in the case of the pregnant woman—in only ten minutes after, and Idoro's expression was one of unease and concern. While his eyesight had been permanently lost, his senses were as good as ever—some were even better. No doubt he'd _heard_ the cave in.

“Is everything all right, Gan?” he asked quietly, once Celestine had settled at a small table with some of the tired children.

“....I don't know,” Gan admitted, pushing food around his plate. “Mom's late. And I had to collapse the tunnel because there were strange people trying to get in. Spirie said they'd go looking, but... I have a bad feeling. Y'know?”

“Yes,” Idoro said with a nod, his expression pained. “Something just doesn't feel... _right_.”

It helped to have someone else understand, though it didn't do much to make him feel better. Idoro had been somewhere between father and uncle for all of his life, and even without physical sight, he could still See. If Idoro felt something was wrong, then something probably _was_.

“Have you.... y'know...”

“Unfortunately, this is just a feeling,” Idoro carefully reached out in the direction of Gan's voice, and the young man obligingly held out a hand for Idoro to pat. “Spirie thinks that my Sight is shifting after so long, becoming less visual and more... empathetic. Raiha would know, but she's been so distracted lately, worrying about Celestine, and those of us that are left... I didn't want to add to that.”

“Heh.... Mom'll... smack you if she figures that out.”

“I suppose,” Idoro said with a rueful smile. “But she'll have to figure it out first, and she's been increasingly inside her own head these days.”

“Yeah...” Gan sighed a little, and absently chased a pea along the rim of the plate. “I know she's glad to be away from the front, but at least there she was so busy that she didn't have time to worry about... whatever it is she's worrying about.”

Idoro chuckled a little, and Gan made a face the older man couldn't see, but could probably guess at just based on shared experience.

“Now now, eat your food, don't just play with it,” Idoro said with a mild smirk. “If you faint from hunger no one will let you live it down, _especially_ not your mother.”

 

-

 

Gan stared at the body blankly, unable to properly register what he was feeling. Hadn't she said that she couldn't die? She certainly _looked_ awfully dead. One arrow had lodged in her eye socket. Another had torn out her throat. Shoulder. Stomach. Collarbone.

Spirie had removed them all, one by one.

So much blood.

It was one thing to see a person die, to know that he had killed them. It gave him a rush, though she'd been careful to warn him about that. So careful. And after the rush, it had made him feel sick; how could he find a _thrill_ in taking someone else's life from them?

How could she be gone?

“You promised,” he whispered, heart numb. “You told me you couldn't die... Why did you take them on all by yourself?”

“Raiha is reckless, but she's no fool, Gan,” Spirie said, breaking into his thoughts more gently than usual. “Like I said, even the powerful can be caught off guard. I suspect she was. A dozen men made it across that bridge, to die in that cave in, after all.”

She had told no one directly over her immortality, he remembered this fact dimly. So he said nothing when Spirie drew the sheet over Raiha's still, cold form, and patted him gently on the shoulder as they left.

She looked like she was only sleeping, if he ignored the ruined eye socket. True, it took some doing to actually _catch_ her sleeping, but he'd seen it a time or two.

Peaceful, he eventually decided. But _wrong_. What was it she had said to him, two.. three years ago?

 _“A wound that would kill someone else can take me_ years _to heal from. Sometimes decades, and yes, that_ is _from experience.”_

He was willing to swear she'd whispered right into his ear, so clearly did the memory surface. Her tired face, her worried amber eyes, the hair straggling out of her long braid, the smell of the infirmary...

After another long moment, he pulled the sheet up over her face. He couldn't leave her here; Spirie would probably try to burn a body that was already badly injured, like they did at the front. But if he tried to take her away now, in full daylight, they wouldn't understand. No, if he was going to make sure that she had a chance to heal, to come back to life like she said was plausible, he was going to have to steal the body after everyone had gone to bed.

And wasn't _that_ going to be fun?

Mentally he made a disgusted sound, and scowled at nothing. If he'd been stronger, more powerful, more like _her_ , this wouldn't have happened.... would it? Maybe there was a way to find more power out in the desert. He was old enough, more than old enough now, to go looking... But he still had the queen to guard, and her children. And he was still technically in the employ of the king, being part of the army and all.

It was enough to make him consider being labeled a deserter, but he knew what his mother would say to _that_. And even... well... _dead,_ he didn't like the idea of disappointing her. He knew the precise look she would give.

He head a thumping set of steps behind him, and glanced up to see the Goron leader, Darunia, had arrived. Startled, Gan all but jumped to his feet in respect for the boulder of a being that had been one of the many he had striven to be like. Darunia nodded briefly to him, then turned to the shrouded figure on the low table.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Darunia said quietly.

“She's... she's not dead,” Gan blurted, wanting _needing_ to tell someone. Darunia had been his mother's oldest friend... perhaps he knew the truth?

“No,” Darunia nodded sagely. “She lives within you, and within all of us.”

Gan ground his teeth a little in overt frustration. While he had known his mother kept secrets, for once, it was backfiring on her. After a moment, Darunia let an actual smile slip, and lightly patted Gan's shoulder. The pats, such as they were, were weighted for a human; in this, Raiha's presence among the Gorons had been a boon. It mostly meant that Gan wasn't bowled over by the hearty attempt at comfort.

“Breathe, little brother,” he advised, chuckling slightly. “I have seen this before. When I was not yet the Big Brother of my people, she was doing some work with us on the mountain, helping to clear out some enemies, when a bomb exploded in her face. The resulting fall broke her spine. But your mother is nothing if not prepared for such things, and we guarded her then, so we will guard her now.”

Gan slumped back onto the bench he'd abandoned with a tired sigh. He had to admit, his mother's paranoia had swung from understandable to indecipherable at times, but he was glad to know that she had contingencies in place to prevent problems.

“Wait, guard her where?”

“We will take the body to our city, and place her in a warm, dimly lit room,” was the calm reply. “Our Sister has lain there before, and it will suit her until the process of healing can be completed.”

“Can't... can't we hurry it any? The springs of the Light Spirits...”

Darunia shook his head.

“We tried that last time. It made no difference,” he sighed a little. “We must wait. But we do not wait blindly. Raiha is every prepared, as I have said, and upon an event such as this, I was to bring to you a letter. Here.”

It was a letter all right. A thick one, but then writing in Gelda didn't exactly lend itself to only one or two sheets. Gan snatched it, then stared blankly for a moment. His name, scrawled neatly on the front in Gelda, and the feel of her magic.

He could have wept for it, but his storm of tears, angry and grief-filled, had already passed. Instead, he managed to get to his feet and bow a little in thanks to Darunia before leaving the house where Raiha's body laid and making his way to the too-silent home.

Only there did he break the seal on the back and unfold the pages.

 

_My son,_

 

_When you hold this letter in your hands, it will be because of tragedy, the sort I try my hardest to avoid. I hate 'dying'; it's so damned inconvenient._

_I write this letter at least once a year, and have done so since you were old enough to read. You are stronger now, and wiser than the boy you used to be, so hopefully, you'll be able to read this one without much difficulty. Assuming, of course, you haven't gone off to do something foolish in an attempt at revenge._

_Don't._

_Whatever has happened to me, eventually, I will recover. Assuming there's anyone left to get revenge upon, that is_ my _prerogative, not yours._

_In any case, do not lose heart. Though I cannot say if my death is the smothering sort, or the kind where I can slip my spirit free to watch, I promise, in due time I will return. Protect Celestine in my place, and if at all possible, keep her and her future children away from the front until the war ends._

_Two years. Maybe three, my son. This is the beginning of the end._

_I am afraid, my son, that I must ask you to keep this secret, even from Idoro and Spirie. While I think they would believe you, and they both had that disconcerting habit of knowing more than they ought, this is not something I want shared. Let them grieve, let them move beyond me. And you should do the same._

_In that vein, I owe you a story. Soon, I know, you will want to see the desert for yourself. Our home calls you back to it, though I hope you will wait until there is true peace before you answer that call._

_There is no way to soften this blow, though you are a smart boy, and probably guessed this long ago; I am not your mother. Rather, I did not carry you, nor give birth. In my heart, you are my son, and ever will be._

_Your blood-mother, Nielesi, was my dearest friend. She refused to let me heal her when it became clear that she was dying, instead naming me your new mother. It was not a duty I wanted, but I could not refuse her. No one refuses a dying Gerudo mother. Not even the two witches who I spent many years frustrating and thwarting._

_You have heard the rumors of our people, of this I have no doubt. I do not know how much stock you put into them. I suppose I ought to have asked long before this. In any case, you have to know that Gerudo are prone to only bearing more women, with one male born every century. This is not_ wholly _a lie, but it is not the complete truth either. Males are born... but if they are born after we have a king, they are condemned to the desert. Only_ one _boy is allowed to be king, and that is the first boy born after the old king has passed._

_Gan, my son, yes. You were the babe born after the death of the old king, the one slated to become the new king. Had Nielesi not named me your mother, you would have been raised to the tribe by Koume and Kotake, the two witches with whom I hold such bitter feelings. But I have walked a darker path than this, and seen a future that I did not want to come to pass. I hoped... I hoped that if I took you from the influence of our people, I could raise you to be wise and strong and fair._

_I do not know if I am doing the right thing. But I was allowed to affect this change, to take you to Hyrule, and raise you among the Sheikah. Before, such great changes would end with me asleep, prevented from altering too much. I still cannot be sure if this was allowed to help me,help you, or because in the end, nothing will change._

_You are a man of destiny, my son. As much as I worry about that destiny, of you, I am proud. You are quick-witted, capable, and well-connected. Brash, still, but you seem to have absorbed at least_ some _of my cautiousness. I hope that it is enough._

_Remember that power comes in many forms, and causes change in everyone. Some people can be responsible with it, while others become corrupted. This war is a good example of that. Please, my son, my Gan, hold on to your sense of self if you are given power. Keep your head, and do not let it rule you._

_I have done what I can to protect and prepare you. Even if destiny does indeed come calling, remember that I will always believe in you._

_I love you, Gan. I hope to see you again before many years pass._

 

_Your mother,_

_Raiha_

 

_P.S. Your full name, my son, before I forget, is Ganondorf Dragmire. But you will always be Gan to me._

 

-

 

“Give me something to staunch the bleeding!” Spirie barked, pale arms bared to the shoulder, and stained with the birthing blood of Celestine. “ _Move_ , boy!”

Gan moved; Celestine had begun her labor early with the twins, and though typically men weren't allowed to witness this moment, he was the only one in the village with two working arms and legs. Not to mention the magic that he could give to Spirie to help with the pain and the bleeding...

Celestine was so pale, he saw, her blue eyes sunken into her face as though she hadn't been eating well. The birth was hard on her, so hard, and without his mother there to help, he had the sickening sense that the queen was going to die. How could he protect her from _that?_

Spirie snatched the linen from his hands the moment he found it, then turned back to the Hylian woman, whispering softly to her. He didn't try to listen in, instead keeping his attention more on the medicines he was supposed to be brewing up to help ease the pain. Like his mother, he _liked_ the tart-tongued clever woman who was currently soaked in sweat and wracked with pain. He didn't want her to die.

His hands trembled a little; he felt so powerless here. If he was better at healing spells, if he had been able to learn them like his mother had...

“Gan, I need your hands,” Spirie said, urgency in their voice. “Quick!”

He abandoned the attempt at a poultice and moved over to their side, helping to ease the first baby from the queen. A little girl, a tiny scrap of humanity in his large, dark hands; Spirie clamped, cut, then tied off the cord of life that connected the baby to the mother, and Gan gingerly, carefully, cleared the birthing fluids and blood off of the baby's face.

The baby squirmed and wriggled in his hands, but she did not wail as he had expected. She whimpered, yes, and he deposited her carefully on Celstine's chest. The would-be queen managed a tired smile before her body was wracked with another spasm. Gan quickly washed his hands again—cleanliness prevented illness, or so his mother had told him time and again—then moved back down without being ordered by Spirie to prepare for the second child.

 

-

 

“He's not going to arrive in time, is he?” Gan asked quietly, as Idoro settled next to him on the bench.

“I'm afraid not,” Idoro sighed tiredly. “Celestine is holding on by a thread, and we dare not move her, otherwise we'd even now be preparing to return to Kakariko and the Spirit Spring there.”

“If Mom was here....”

“I know, Gan.”

The babies were both healthy; a girl and a boy. The girl would be the crown princess, if Dalfnes managed to win this stupid war. The boy.... Gan wasn't entirely certain he _liked_ what was to become of the boy. Trained by the Sheikah to be his sister's guardian, her eternal protector, and denied any truth of his heritage... it seemed unfair.

But then, was what happened to male children of his own people any more fair? The knowledge of it gave him the chills, even knowing that he had been the lucky one, the _special_ one.

Celestine was holding on to life, fighting with everything she had, everything the could give her, but Spirie was a spymaster, not a healer. Gan wasn't even _that;_ as his mother had known, his own talents ran more towards battle magic, attacking over defense, bloodshed over healing. Never had he felt more like he was going to fail her last wish. At this point, they were trying to give her enough strength to last until Dalfnes arrived.

But it wasn't going to be enough, and they all knew it.

“She named the baby girl today,” Gan said after a minute. “Zelda. After a grandmother of hers. And she agreed that the boy could be named Sheik.”

“....Spirie is not necessarily known for their creativity in names,” Idoro offered with a faint wince.

“Who will raise them after...?”

“Nominally, Impa will be in charge of their care, once this war is finished. Ashaia and Sanae will do the actual feeding, with the goat's milk from that nanny who had her kids three months ago. We will not allow them to die.”

The village was bleak now; two more Sheikah adults had arrived, both maimed horribly from the fighting, while the four eldest children had gone to join Dalfnes' efforts. He feared he was seeing the end of his adopted family, and knew that the news of it would break his mother's heart when she finally woke up.

“Gan, don't punish yourself,” Idoro said quietly, reaching over carefully to rest his hand on Gan's forearm. “You've done everything possible. Your mother would be proud.”

That caused pain of a different sort. He had obeyed his mother and not told anyone that she would come back to them some day, but it had been hard. Raiha's death had been a blow to Idoro, and he was worried about the older man's continuing frailty. It reminded him of Bali's, before he had succumbed to his final illness.

“I wish she was here,” he said softly.

“I know. We all do.”

 

-

 

Dalfnes' grief was palpable; two days too late to give his wife even a kiss farewell. He had looked only briefly upon the babies that she had born him, instead sitting vigil beside Celestine's bed as he wept.

If there was one person Gan had been glad to see arrive, it had been Impa. Her eyes were older, tired and full of grief for the news of both Raiha's 'death', and Celestine's, but she had greeted him with as much warmth as she could manage, and Gan had felt slightly heartened to see both the leader of the Sheikah... and his old friend.

“How goes the fighting?” he asked quietly as they stood outside the house to give Dalfnes privacy to mourn.

“Well, in as much as fighting can,” she replied. “His Majesty thinks that soon we will be able to take the rest of Faron from him, and split some people off to begin the capture of parts of Lanayru province. All the war councilors agree; two years, perhaps two and a half, and then all that will be left is getting rid of the last pockets of resistance from Tores' people.”

“Mom thought... that soon, some of Tores' nobility would start defecting.”

“Lady Raiha was ever-wise in knowing the flow of battle,” Impa nodded, pain flashing briefly through her crimson eyes. “Yes, we have had three defect already. We are keeping them prisoner, though I doubt His Majesty will execute them.”

The word made Gan's stomach twist.

“Why the hell not?” he demanded. “They abused the people that looked to them for protection, and pandered to a king who wasted money and food!”

“I know,” she replied gravely. “But it is, in the end, His Majesty's choice on how to handle them. Imprisonment for now, and judgment to be deferred until the end of the war, so that their crimes can be properly tallied.”

He growled a little, and clenched his fists. People looked to the nobility, the soldiers, and the guards for protection. And that protection had been not just deliberately withheld, but _cruelly_ so. Farmers, craftspeople, ranchers, all had died to give those people their luxuries. It wasn't right, wasn't _just_. And Dalfnes was going to let them _live?_

“A kingdom is complicated, Gan,” and Impa's voice startled him. “Power is a corrupting influence, and can do a lot of damage in the hands of the wrong person. But until we can be sure that they _were_ wrong, killing them out of hand would do us no favors.”

“But you could replace them!”

“With whom? Their children? Who's to say those children wouldn't be similar, or worse? We need to shut this _down_ first,” Impa said firmly. “Once the fighting is finished, we can concentrate on who should be executed, who should be exonerated, and how to redistribute the lands and holdings.”

“It just seems so...”

“Slow. I know. But it is what it is.”

He grimaced. He was really learning to hate that phrase.

“Will you be returning with us?”

“....I think I should stay here,” Gan said after a long minute. “Mom... wanted me to protect... y'know. And keep the babies safe. I'd... I'd rather do that.”

Impa just nodded in understanding, and thick, awkward silence descended. Gan shifted uneasily, wanting to say something, but not knowing precisely _what_.

“You should go get some rest,” Impa said finally. “When was the last time you did?”

“Hey, I slept,” he protested, feeling a touch sulky.

“Clearly not enough. Go on. You'll feel better for it.”

Even his own friend... Reluctantly, Gan did leave, though he avoided his silent, empty house for a bit longer. It just didn't feel right, being by himself. It never had. He'd hated it when he'd been left here as a teenager, and he hated it even more now, knowing that his mother would not be coming back in the next few hours to make the space a little brighter, a little warmer.

But because he needed it, he did try. And eventually, as if reluctant to take him, he managed to drift off.

 

-

 

Idoro passed on just shy of Gan's twenty-third birthday. Just before they received the news that Dalfnes had taken the castle, that Tores he chosen death over surrender. Spirie died three days after.

Grief was a numbing shroud around Gan. He should have been elated, excited, _anything_ , but how could he feel anything with almost all the important people in his life gone?

It didn't seem right, that the sun was rising on the day they set the funeral pyre for parent and son. Impa wasn't there to see or sing the Sheikah songs of grief, and it seemed... well, it didn't seem _right_ to try and sing the Gerudo songs Raiha had taught him.

The others sang the songs instead, and he watched with stinging eyes as the fire took the bodies of two people who had meant the world to him.

Zelda and Sheik were two years old now, though he hadn't interacted with them much at all. Once the fighting was over, Impa would come to collect them, to take them to the safest place in the kingdom now. What would he do then?

Unbidden, he turned his gaze to the west; though the mountains blocked his sight, and the desert was many weeks of travel away, he felt that soon... yes, soon it would be time to visit the place of his birth and see what there was to see of his own people.

Days, weeks, came. Went. Impa sent a letter that thanked him for his strength, for his protection of the twins, and gave a date when she would arrive to take them to the palace. Her words were formal; their friendship had not managed to survive the time apart, no matter how they had tried.

It was just one more hurt, one more nail that made him feel as though he was not strong enough. Not powerful enough. If he had been better, been _more_ , would any of this have happened? Would Raiha have been so injured, would Celestine have died? Would all the friends he'd made among the Sheikah now be dead if he'd been stronger?

When Impa arrived almost a year later, he avoided her. He didn't know what to say, or how to say it. How could he admit that he was going to leave this place, the he was going to see the desert that so many Hylians feared and hated? It wasn't much, but a desire to see the desert was the only thing that was keeping him invested in not simply giving up, and the desire was growing into an obsession. He _had_ to get there, and he had to get there _soon_.

He visited the Goron's first, the original village of Kakariko, now mostly abandoned. What few people there were, they were not Sheikah. They were ordinary Hylians, and he wondered if Impa had allowed this, or if she didn't even know. In the end he decided to let it pass; it wasn't his business, what these people did. He just wanted to visit his mother.

She looked better, after four years. Of the injuries, the throat was still not fully healed, nor was her eye. The rest were easily hidden under the loose clothing the Gorons had dressed her in. Her hair was cut short for ease of care, but otherwise, she looked only as through she was sleeping. Her face held that slightly concerned cast he was used to seeing, the weight of worry that she had never fully shed, even in dreams.

It hurt that he had never managed to feel her presence around him. That even now she laid as still and silent as though she was truly dead, and only the fact that she still _looked_ the same kept him from believing that her words had been her first lie to him.

He stayed there for days, and in that time, wrote her a letter so that she would know where he was going, and what he was hoping to do. Everything that had happened, the deaths that had befallen those she had known, the state of the village when he'd left it... He _had_ to let her know. Because someday she would come back, and she would need to know.

He didn't leave it in the care of Darunia, though perhaps he should have. Instead, he left it right under one of her hands, so that when she woke, it would be the first thing she would know about.

The desert called.

And Gan went.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Six:

Destiny

 

_Mom,_

 

_I'm glad you're awake now, whenever it is. There's a lot to tell you, and.... and not much of it is good. Actually, only one thing is, and that's the fact that Daflnes won the stupid war. Oh, and I guess that Celestine had twins. The crown princess is Zelda, and her brother, the one the Sheikah are apparently supposed to train to be her protector, her shadow, is her twin brother. Spirie named him Sheik._

_I think that's the best news I have..._

_Celestine didn't survive long after the birth of the twins. Spirie and I, we tried everything we could, but... but she died two days before Dalfnes got there._

_Idoro and Spirie have also passed on, at the time I write this. 'Doro, he... after your death Mom, he got old really fast. He caught something, and nothing I could make seemed to help. I... I think he wanted to be with you. I wanted to tell him the truth._

_Spirie.... I think they died of a broken heart. It was just too much._

_I wish I could feel you around me, Mom. Being alone like this, it... it hurts. It hurts so much that some days I think_ I _want to die. Whatever I'm supposed to have, it's not enough, it's_ never _been enough. I wish I could get more advice from you right now._

_I think... I think at this point, the only reason I still want to be here is because of the desert. I want to see the desert, I want to see what's left of our people. I can't explain it, Mom, but.... but I think if I go there, I'll get better._

_I'll be careful. I still have your amulet, and it's not going anywhere. You once told me you could find me by tracking it, so I'll keep it with me always. That way, when you wake up, you can find me._

_I don't know that I can live up to your faith in me, Mom. But I'll try. And... and it doesn't matter if we have common blood. You're my_ mother _, and there's nothing anyone can do or say that will change that. So... you know... I love you too._

 

_Gan_

 

-

 

She did her best to not crumple the letter; Ga had tried so hard to let her know, in his rather messy and haphazard scrawl, what she had missed. She had known that pain would be there, but this... this was so much worse than she'd thought.

Celestine. Spirie. Idoro. The latest in the casualty list that was her damned life.

Raiha bowed her head and let the tears drip onto her lap. She had never loved the man as much as he deserved, but she had loved him as much as she could. He had never begrudged her what she held back either, and even after they could no longer be physically intimate, his heart had ever remained hers.

Her body was still responding only sluggishly, but there was no time to delay. She wiped her eyes impatiently, and refolded the letter, then set it carefully to one side so that she could fling off the blanket and set her feet on the warm stone floor. How long had it been?

She almost fell on her face, and only her grip on the lip of the stone bed kept it from being a full collapse. Her body trembled with the inactivity, and she felt, she _knew_ , she had no time to indulge the weakness of it.

_Eldin!_

The spirit did not need instruction. The light flowed, filled her. It chased away the weakness and the sluggish responses, restored that which had become slack. It wouldn't last, she would be months yet in true recovery, but she had to go, and she had to go now.

_How long?_

_Almost a decade, my mother._

_The Sheikah?_

_Kakariko is opened to those who lost their homes in the war. Some remain yet in the Hidden Village, but not many. Impa remains in Lanayru province with the Princess of Destiny._

Swearing was amazingly cathartic. Raiha found her clothes tucked into a nearby stone chest and threw them on haphazardly, wishing she had the Ocarina of Time to get her to the Temple of Time.

It was the snap that had awakened her; the sound a feel of shattering glass as the Triforce was rent anew. Link was back. A child, perhaps, but Link was _back_. The shape of the land, the city, it would disorient him, and....

Gan.

Where was her son?

She cast her senses out as far as she could while still preparing to travel, and found no trace of her own magic. True, it didn't mean anything, not really; her range was limited after so long trapped in darkness. But it still gave her chills, a new level to her anxiety that she couldn't deny. He had gone to the desert. The desert where that cold magic had laid, where that other boy had been possessed by evil.

And he was one of the destined three.

She vaulted a startled Goron who had come to see what the noise was about, and made her way out of the city as fast as she could. In the pre-dawn light, she shaded her eyes from the slowly setting moon and cast her gaze to the west.

That was perhaps the only nice thing about the height of Death Mountain; being the tallest, the volcano gave her a fairly unobstructed view of Hyrule. She swept her gaze as far as she could, then looked up; a misty haze of gray, unseasonal rain clouds that warned that not all was right with the world. Her grip on her small shoulder bag firmed, and she started the climb down.

 _Mother, you are not strong enough,_ Eldin protested.

 _I don't have time to be weak and recover the proper way_ , she snapped back. _I'm already going to be pushing my luck in arriving in time as it is!_

Borrowing strength from the spirits did mean that when she stopped, it was going to take her even _longer_ to recover, but that was the price she was willing to pay if it meant arriving in time.

She scrambled down the path, passing by startled Gorons, and sometimes jumping right over them when they were in her way as the moon fully set, and the sun rose into the clouded sky. She made Kakariko by noon, and took only a moment to look the village over; people lived there for certain, now, and she could see a band of carpenters running about and adding to buildings.

Fortunately, she had come out at the edge of the village, and quickly left to the plains of Hyrule. The horse she summoned there carried her the three days it took to cross to the west, over repaired bridges and lands that still showed signs of war, but were also just as clearly recovering.

She rested the horse because she had to, because she would not mistreat an animal that was willingly carrying her on its back to meet destiny. But she pushed as hard as she dared, and left the poor thing at the edge of the market, to the care of some hostlers who looked uneasy about her presence.

She had no time to care. She could _feel_ the cold that was trying to permeate the market, the hushed whispers of fearful conversation covered by the louder, more normal sounds. She sensed more than actually noticed the way conversation simply _died_ the moment she came into view, leaving around her a wide circle of fearful silence.

Part of her wanted to turn to the Temple of Time, to take solace in the feel of ancient magic. The reaction of the people in Castletown were not congruous with what she remembered.... but then again, last time, she had been a child. Children were invisible, nonthreatening. Even Gerudo children. Adults...

The guards didn't try to block her path to the castle; she was willing to say that she recognized a fair handful, and they her. Some of them, at least, certainly looked at her like they were seeing a ghost, and it reminded her that they probably thought she was _dead_.

“...this is going to make for an interesting reunion,” she muttered as she stepped with care and caution into the receiving hall of the castle.

It was cold. Not physically, not in any way that someone might consciously notice, but it was _cold_ , and she knew it. People looked at her; some frowned in confusion, others in hostility. She ignored them all, and concentrated on the tingling in her right hand, following it in the direction the pull was the strongest. The fact that no one attacked her outright suggested that she was just _barely_ in time to catch the denouncement of the Gerudo King, whoever he was.

The throne room was more empty than she had ever seen it, and the guards posted clearly didn't want to let her in.

“Sorry, miss, but we've got standing orders that _you lot_ are to wait out here,”one said, his tone just shy of snide.

“Funny, that almost sounds like you think you can stop me,” she replied, in no mood to be patient, or polite. “You can move, or you can be moved, frankly, I don't care which. I'm _late_.”

One of them jolted at the sound of her voice, and peered at her more closely.

“....Lady Liratori?”

Two others jolted as well, and stared.

“Yes,” Raiha said impatiently. “I know. You heard I was dead. Rumors of such have been greatly exaggerated, now if you don't mind, _move_.”

“How do we know you're-”

Patience evaporated; Raiha grabbed the spear that was lowered before her, yanked it from the guard who was insisting on being officious, and used it to dump him on his ass.

“When the day is over, you can question my credentials all you like,” she said icily, the point of the spear leveled directly at the guard's now white face. “I'll even be nice about it. But right now, you are between me, and something very important, and I am going in there whether you like it or not.”

She glanced up to the other three guards, the ones who recognized her, and raised an eyebrow. They abruptly moved aside, and she took the spear with her as she walked into the throne room.

They were arrayed at the far end of the room, and Raiha took them in as she strode fearlessly forward; the king, Dalfnes, on his throne. Grief and time had aged him, but he carried that age well, for a Hylian. Zelda stood on his left, Impa and Sheik in the shadows behind the throne. Link stood on Zelda's left, looking uneasy, almost fearful as he confronted the final player of the game.

From behind, he was tall. Close to even feet if he was an inch, broad shouldered, with red hair that appeared to be coiled and pinned, held in place by a fanciful Gerudo crown. He wore black armor, edged in gold, over loose black pants and a dark shirt, and stood loosely, ready to attack _or_ defend as the opportunity presented itself.

Link spotted her first, and his blue eyes lit up with hope and delight; despite the moment, she couldn't help but offer him a small smile of reassurance. It was _so_ good to see him, and know that he remembered, to realize that even though he would probably be confused by her form, he was able to know that it was _her_ , and not someone else.

Impa was not so blessedly clear-sighted; the shadows around the throne grew briefly darker as the last leader of the Sheikah and her apprentice made to move in response to the threat they believed she presented.

“Really, you majesty, the word of two children who believe me to be some... great evil? I feel that is frankly insulting, considering that I was raised in this land as well. What reason would _I_ have to harm Hyrule?”

Raiha froze, and her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. Nothing had changed. _Nothing had changed_. Nothing had changed, except now he was her _son_ , and not just some evil man who had tried to kill her.

In that moment of inattentiveness, Impa moved from the throne to Raiha's back, and a blade was pressed lightly against her spine. Grief was pushed aside for resigned irritation.

“Lower the spear,” Impa said quietly, “and leave the room.”

“Impa. Do you mind?” Raiha kept her voice low as well, but the ire would not be denied. “It took me this long to heal, I'd really rather not have to start _all_ over again because you jumped the signal.”

The knife pressed a little harder, and Raiha made a faintly impatient sound.

“Your father was Bali, your uncle Idoro,” she hissed out in frustration. “You grandparent Spirie, who loved to jump out of my son's shadow and scare the hell out of him.”

The blade pulled away, and Raiha half-turned to see Impa staring at her in no small amount of shock. Lightly, Raiha gestured with the spear, doing her best to contain the roil of emotions that she was trying to push aside.

“Now that we're done proving I know you and you remember me, can we move on? I have something to say as well.”

“...L... Lady... Raiha? But... _how?_ ”

“No time now. Get back into position; you'll be needed.”

The authoritative voice did exactly as it was meant to, and Impa immediately remanded herself back to covering the king of Hyrule. Confusion was writ loud on Link's face, though Zelda's firm expression hadn't changed one bit.

Raiha lifted her chin, and straightened her shoulders; nothing had changed, but she still had her duty to fulfill. All three pieces were gathered in this room, and come hell or high water, she would put this damn mess to _rest_.

She strode forward, lightly giving Lanayru a mental tap; the spirit added its power to Eldin's, bolstering her body further. She would pay the toll later... right now, she was going to need every scrap of skill to take her son into custody.

 

-

 

Link stuck to her side like a burr in the aftermath as she watched with a breaking heart as Gan—no, he was not her Gan, was he? He was Ganondorf now—was put in special restraints to prevent him from casting a spell that would allow his escape from prison. The arrogant man he had become, the cold he had brought with him...

She wanted to scream

A hand on her leg made her look down at Link, who's expression was firm, and almost mutinous even. Of course he didn't understand why it hurt this much now, she hadn't had the chance to explain it.

After a moment, she gave herself a very genuine physical shake, and turned to Dalfnes, who had taken shelter in the safety behind his throne.

“Sorry about the mess, Majesty,” she said, keeping her tone cordial.

“....Lady Liratori. While we are glad that rumors of your death were not as... well-founded as they could have been, you could have chosen a better time.”

“If I could have chosen, I would have,” she replied tartly. “Unfortunately, it wasn't my decision to make.”

Despite the chaotic moment, there was a ghost of a grin.

“At least you still seem the same.”

Her heart twisted, but she managed to keep it from her face and voice.

“Yes. I am the same.”

She turned away from him then, to look down at the young princess and her twin. She wondered now if that really _had_ been how it was supposed to be, but pushed the qeustion away in favor of offering a bow to Zelda, who studied her with eyes that were too-knowing.

“My apologies to you as well, Princess. What plans I had were shattered by unwitting interference. I am pleased to meet you at last.”

Zelda offered a surprisingly shy smile in response.

“This room is going to need some serious fixing,” Link mumbled.

From somewhere, Raiha dredged up a smile, and a slight wince; he wasn't wrong. The fight had burned a number of tapestries, the rug, and damaged both floors and windows. The only saving grace was that Ganondorf was still newly come to the Triforce of Power, and didn't know the depth of its strength. She would not have won so easily otherwise.

“Majesty, Princess, I know there are many questions you undoubtedly have for me, but I cannot answer them just yet,” Raiha said, her voice solemn. “I first need to have a long talk with... with the one we just had arrested.”

She felt more than saw Link's surprise; Dalfnes only nodded.

“Please forgive me if I find myself posting a guard nearby to watch,” he said; his tone was genuinely apologetic, and Raiha nodded slightly. “Not that I don't trust you, but...”

“Better to be safe than sorry,” Raiha finished. “It's fine. I'd recommend Impa, if she can be spared, because a lot of what I need to say involves... Sheikah knowledge and secrets.”

Link reached up and tugged at her hand. She hated to ignore him, but she didn't have time to explain herself in a manner that would be satisfactory to anyone; the longer the coldness had Gan, the less chance she had of getting him back, of returning him to the young man she had _known_ he could be.

 

-

 

Gan's cell was not necessarily uncomfortable; he had a padded bench, some thick blankets, and a more discreet corner than most prisoners in which to take care of personal needs. True, the cell was barred and open otherwise, but he had it all to himself. Perhaps naturally, because it was the block for magically-powered prisoners, and none were currently in residence. The stone of his cell was carved with runes that suppressed power, strong enough that she, on her stool outside the bars, could feel it.

She looked right at Ganondorf, and received a cold look in return. He didn't even acknowledge Impa, standing behind Raiha's right shoulder.

“I want to talk to my son,” she said, firmly and clearly.

“I'm sitting right here,” he responded.

His voice was cultured, somehow. It had an arrogant bent, a tone that her son had never carried.

“My son is named Gan, and he would no more have tried to attack the Hylian king than he would hurt a horse,” she retorted.

“'Your son',” he sneered a little. “Your son never existed, because you never _had_ a son.”

“I never had a son of my own blood, that much I will grant you. But I raised him. I trained him. I treated his scrapes and heartbreaks, I scolded and lectured when his willfully caused damage and harm. I loved him. And you _will_ return him to me.”

His mouth curved in a lazy, arrogant smile.

“The whelp screams in his own mind,” he replied, his tone silky. “But he makes for a better host than the fool boy of before. You cannot get him back, woman. You never will. He will be mine for all of time.”

Raiha's hand clenched so hard on the lip of the stool that the wood cracked.

“Gan. Gan, listen to me. While I don't know everything there is to know about the Triforce, I think I know enough. The pieces bind to a soul, Gan. _Your_ soul, if I'm not mistaken, because it's _you_ that is a person of destiny, not the creature that has taken you over. _You_ hold it, _you_ control it. _You have a say in this._ ”

Behind her, she heard Impa take in a short breath.

“When I went to the desert to rescue Idoro all those years ago, I felt whatever it was that has you possessed. Idoro told me how the secondary king that the Gerudo had raised had been possessed, how Koume and Kotake, had used his power as well as theirs to unlock whatever kept this thing bound, and then tried to hold it back from taking their chosen child. Why do you think I crafted that amulet? Yes, it was to protect you from coming to harm in the war, but I was trying to spare you this. I knew you had it in you to be _better_ than what I knew, what I remembered. And you have been. You _always_ have been.”

The sneer on his face began to twist; the cold was being pushed back.

“Is this all true?” Impa asked softly as they witnessed Ganondorf's clear mental struggles.

“As much of it as I know,” Raiha replied, never taking her gaze from her son. “Can't you feel it, Impa? He's not himself. Something else is there, but Gan is _still inside._ I don't know if I can reach him, I don't know if he can be rescued, but I am his mother, and I would rather be dead than condemn him out of hand.”

She no longer cared if it altered the flow of time. She had been mandated to put the damn Triforce back together, and that was _exactly_ what she was trying to do. All she could hope for, now, was that she would get her son back in the process.

“The Triforce is...”

“Sundered. Yes. Zelda and Link also have a piece. I have to fix it. I-”

Power abruptly blossomed in the cell, and a number of the dampening stones outright shattered, spraying shards in all directions. Raiha lifted her arms reflexively, ducking back from the explosion of stone; it didn't matter much, stone shards caught her anyways, and drew blood enough to make her swear. Only too late did she think that maybe she oughtn't have said she knew where the other two pieces were, though really, how he could have avoided knowing, she wasn't sure.

The power built, and became blinding; with it came a roaring sound, and within it she could hear two voices, both shouting as loudly as they could in a fight for dominance. What they were saying, she couldn't specifically make out, but she could recognize one as her son.

Impa's hand landed on her shoulder, and pulled. Raiha brushed her hand off, though she did abandon the stool to stand before that blaze of power, her hands clenched into tight fists. She had faith in Gan. In her son. She would not run, she would not back down. Not now, not ever.

In the end, she didn't get much of a choice; the explosion flung her back and actually _through_ the bars of the cell behind her, embedding her about two inches into the wall at the back. She felt more than heard Impa swearing as she too was blown away by the power.

When the power banked, and she pulled herself from the wall, Raiha was trembling from the pain of it. She staggered forward, blind from the brilliant light, and tumbled into a pit, landing roughly on shattered stone. She felt around, seeking something, _anything_ that would tell her if Gan had survived that.

The Triforce of Power came to her hand naturally, as if it had only been waiting for her to reach out for it. The energy that flooded through her had her arching in a silent scream of pain as it poured into her; if she had held molten wire in her veins, she was quite certain that it would have felt similar. The power battered at her, demanded of her, and her stubbornness reared its head; she battered it back, forced it down to a level that was bearable, breathable.

By the time she had done that, a multitude of voice were shouting in alarm. Slowly, she lifted her head, her eyesight clearing, to look into the cell where her son had been.

Nothing. No, not quite nothing. A shadow yet lingered, where no shadow should have been; it flowed down into the hole the explosion had dug, then took shape; her son. Her Gan, tall and strong, broad-shouldered and powerful. His hair, loose now, waved about his face like flames, but it was the sheepish expression on his face that captured her attention.

 _He broke my stone, the one you made for me,_ the spirit of Gan said. _I was careless and he took me over. I'm sorry, Mom.._

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Gan,” she replied, swallowing back her tears. “I'm sorry... I should have been here.”

He ducked his head a little, then offered her a small, almost grim smile.

_Well, he didn't get to win, at least._

“No...no he didn't. You... you lived up to everything I could have hoped for, my son.”

_….I love you, Mom._

“I love you too, Gan.”

Gan seemed satisfied; the wisp of spirit vanished, leaving behind a cracked, golden stone. Raiha held the stone in both of her hands, and the tears flooded out.

So much work. So much potential. So much love.

And now he was gone.

Her son.

Gone.

“Princess, what- Hey, get back here you little-”

Feet skidded down the steep incline, and two small children impacted her. Link fiercely wrapped his arms around one of hers and held on tight, while Zelda's hands only rested lightly on her other arm.

“...Raiha, I don't...?”

The childish voice of the hero she loved did not ease her pain. Would he even begin to understand this? Could she even begin to explain it?

“He was my _son_ ,” she whispered, hands clenched tight around the cracked stone. “ _My son_.”

She felt Link's shock more than anything else, but to his credit, he only hugged her tighter.

 

-

 

With the Triforce of Power maintaining her, the energy of her spirits became almost superfluous. A part of her not numbed by grief wondered if perhaps the cost would be higher once she let that Power go....

She found it hard to care about that, really. She was tired of pain, both emotional and physical, and wanted only to be alone until the grief ebbed.

Unfortunately, this was not allowed. She had explanations to make, to everyone. Of all of them, only Link was given the full, true story of how everything had coalesced into the current situation; everyone else got bits and pieces, even Zelda.

“So, what happens now?” Link asked a little anxiously, leaning against her knee as they rested in Zelda's private garden.

“I don't really know,” Raiha said, her voice dull. “I guess I take the other two pieces and... put it back.”

“Will you come back?”

“Will I?” After a moment, she shrugged one shoulder, unable to bring up the energy to reassure him. “I don't know.”

“...please come back,” he aid, his small hands holding hers. “I... I left everyone else behind in that other time. Navi's gone too. You're the only one who... who knows what happened. Don't leave me all alone... please?”

She sighed a little, then reached over and pulled the boy into her lap, and hugged him tightly.

“I can't promise anything, Link. I'm so tired.... I don't know that I can ever be who I was for you. I don't even know who _I_ am now.”

He looped his arms around her neck, hugging back.

“You're my best friend,” he said firmly. “We can get through this, Rai.”

She only sighed, though she didn't bother contradicting him. He had made hard choices, growing up too fast, but she had lived _lifetimes_ without him, and was not as certain that she could be anyone who was any good for him.

But he could be stubborn, so she kept the words to herself. She would learn soon enough whether she would be given a choice, or have the choice made for her.

 

-

 

The air of the Temple of Time carried with it a hint of incense, the echo of a thousand voices raised in ancient song. The ancient power of it did not give her a clearer head, or a more optimistic outlook, but it did provide some modicum of comfort; the temple had always been here, and always would remain in Hyrule, even when it was lost to the annals of time.

Link stood on her left, Zelda on her right, and they stepped up to the alter.

“Are you sure about this?” Link asked again.

Raiha did not look down at him, only at the Door of Time, which remained open, as if awaiting them.

“It's time,” she said finally.

It hadn't been very long; a few weeks since the explosion of energy that had eliminated the eastern cell block as well as the Gerudo King. Raiha would not consider herself anywhere near emotionally recovered, but she didn't want to allow herself to get used to the feeling of Power in her hand. The magic of the world required that she restore the Triforce to it's proper place, and that place was the Sacred Realm.

And thus, the three of them had come in secret to the Temple of Time.

Well, four, rather, but only because Raiha had not been inclined to try and talk Sheik out of coming along as well. She lacked the energy, the desire, to have a prolonged discussion with the boy that would grow up to be the bodyguard for his royal sibling.

“What do we do?” Zelda asked.

“Set it right, somehow,” Raiha said after a long minute. “You're the one with Wisdom. Ask it.”

Zelda's brow furrowed, and Raiha felt as if a small spike had been jabbed through her right hand; with a grimace, she held it up and massaged it with the other. It had been much less discomforting when the presence of the three pieces had only made it numb, but now that she carried one herself, it was almost worse.

When it faded she let out a quiet sigh of relief, then looked to Zelda, who was wobbling slightly.

“We...” the princess was clearly dazed, but Sheik moved in quickly to support her. “We give you the pieces. When you have them, the door to the Sacred Realm will open for you alone.”

Raiha nodded, and knelt.

“Give them how?” Link asked.

“Just...wish them to her,” Zelda replied, finding her footing once again.

It was done just that quickly; courage filled her with the strength she had been missing for the past weeks. Wisdom blindsided her almost in the manner that Power had; when her vision cleared, she saw no sign of either child, and found herself instead in a field of green and flowers.

The Sacred Realm.

It was beautiful, she decided after a long minute. The sky overhead was as velvet-blue as if she was standing in the desert, studded with gleaming stars that matched nothing she had ever seen before. Almost directly ahead of her was a cobblestone path, well maintained by the looks of it, and she followed it to the foot of a small temple.

The Temple of Light was a cascade of colors, though as she stepped in, they shifted to predominantly blue and gold. The alter at the far end was bare, and she stepped up to it, then released the three pieces to form above it. She had known for long, long decades the shape of her wish, and personal pain aside, she was not going to allow herself to be selfish.

“Balance,” she said, her fingertips resting on the glimmering triangles. “Balance in all things, with maybe a little bit of favor to the kinder side; Let Hyrule prosper without becoming arrogant, let her be safe with just enough trouble to keep her on her toes. Let her people have enough to eat, and enough to share.”

The Triforce flared with a blinding white light, shooting high up into the air, well out of reach.

_You have done well, child. If you wish a boon, we shall grant it._

Once, the voice of the Great Goddesses had been enough to nearly break her. Now, she just hung her head wearily.

“If you could give Link the girl he remembers as his friend, that would be nice. They could grow old together, and adventure happily enough.”

**It shall be done.**

She didn't remember what it felt like to be a child. Or how she had looked _as_ a child. But that was the great thing about goddesses; they remembered. She watched as another version of herself was made from light and mist, and imparted with memories. Watched as it glanced sympathetically up at her, then vanished.

At least someone would get something good out of all this. And he had most certainly earned it.

You wish nothing for yourself?

“I don't know what I want for myself,” she said simply. “What is there for me in Hyrule now?”

Behind her, someone coughed softly. Raiha turned and saw Rauru standing next to the shrine where one day the Triforce would settle again. Wordlessly, he offered her his hand, his blue eyes shining with sympathy.

Raiha hesitated, then stepped towards him, though she didn't take his hand just yet.

“I don't know if I can do what you do,” she confessed.

“Right now, your heart and soul are damaged,” he said gently. “You have lost everything, you are grieving. Even in your grief, you put Hyrule, and the ones you love, before your own desires. You already do everything I do, Raiha. You always have. Take your time to heal here, child; the Sacred Realm will do what Hyrule cannot.”

“What if... what if someday I want to go back?”

“You will be the Sage of Light, no matter where you go,” and he smiled fondly. “With the Triforce secure and safe, there is little danger in visiting the land that you worked so hard to protect. You have done well, dear girl. It is all right to lay your burdens down to rest.”

“The Mirror,” she said abruptly.

“Will be shattered one day, but not by you.”

“The desert?”

“Will fend for itself. It is part of you,and thus, part of your wish for Hyrule.”

Raiha lifted her hand, but hesitated a moment longer.

“I can rest?”

Rauru smiled in sympathy, then nodded. And Raiha allowed her hand to drop into his.

 


	7. Centuries later

This place was different. He was used to the open plains of Hyrule; the scrubs and almost-desert of Eldin province, the green, fertile fields of outer Faron. He'd never had to come this deep into the forest before, but the sword... he needed the sword that was said to be in these depths. Needed it to free the Prince of the land, his guardian, and his best friend from the curse the sorcerer had placed upon them.

He pushed through dense scrub, ducked under vines, and followed a sound he could only just hear; a faint strain of music, so upbeat and rhythmic that he caught his fingers tapping in time with it. And he was willing to _swear_ he'd heard it somewhere before...

The light never seemed to change, though he grew weary in his journeying. It remained the same dappled green of midday as he found a place to rest, in the roots of a tree that exuded an air of safety and peace, and when he woke, it had not changed even slightly.

But this time, he felt as though he was on the correct path. Finally. He'd been wandering for.... well, he had lost track of time, really. Long enough that he was running low on food and water, at the very least.

Silent hours passed, before the trees finally deigned to part and grant him the view of a clearing. At some point, there must have been a temple, but the walls had caved in, or been eroded by time. Only a few stacks of stubborn stone remained, covered in moss and vines. At the far end was the remnants of the tallest wall, cutting the clearing almost neatly in half. _This_ wall, while covered in moss, was still mostly whole, and soared at least and extra twenty feet over his head, with nary a vine in sight.

Before the wall was a statue of a woman on a small stone plinth. On her, there was no moss at all, as though it had been scared away. Cautiously, he drew closer; statues had come to life before, and tried to kill him... One hand crept to the sword strapped to his back as he took the statue of the woman in.

She would be tall, he decided; even kneeling on the stone, her head was even with his. Whoever had carved her had to have been a master; her expression was not at all peaceful, despite the serenity of the place. It was sharp, piercing, her gaze was direct and assessing, and he found himself oddly feeling like he was being judged and found wanting.

He quickly averted his eyes from her face, and made himself study the rest of her; she wore a full-sleeved shirt that tucked into a pair of fingerless gloves, and her hands rested on her lap, palms up. Over the top was a tabard of some sort, the hem etched with a strange symbol that he felt he ought to have known, but couldn't immediately place. At her waist was a thin leather belt, held at the center by a Triforce-shaped buckle.

Her hair was pinned back by a headstone that was slightly cracked—the only sign of wear on the statue—tied into a long tail that pooled slightly at her feet, becoming part of the stone plinth, with two long tendrils over her ears, half-hiding the earrings that pierced her lobes.

The statue was, he decided, beautiful. And intimidating as all get out. But it appeared to be only a statue that was free of moss and vine and nothing more. Whatever spell kept it preserved so well, he was impressed and a little unnerved by it.

The sword was _supposed_ to be here... but it was clearly not in this part of the clearing, and there was no way of knowing if it was one the other side, thanks to the wall in the middle. Cautiously he approached the wall and looked up at it. _Theoretically_ , he could climb it, but there were no vines to make it easier, and the moss was the slippery sort, not inclined towards letting him have an easy grip. Maybe if he pulled the moss away...?

The soft sound of a foot on grass was the only warning he got. It was enough... but only just. He whipped around, sword clearing the sheathe mere moments before the woman attacked him.

She was fast. _So_ fast. None of the other statues had moved like this. She carried a rapier in one hand, a long knife in the other, and she did not _pause_ for a moment. He was hard pressed to even defend himself, and there was no room for attack.

And yet...

And yet.

He stumbled back in surprise, but only a little pain when she trapped his sword and gave a firm twist, yanking the blade from his grip and sending it halfway across that green clearing. Barely seconds after, one blade tip rested at his throat,the other poised to rip open his belly.

Her eyes were a hard, but not angry, yellow, he realized. Her hair was red-gold, in the sunlight, and her skin a coppery brown. Her clothing had become shades of soft browns and gentle golds, all save the earring which were a deep, sapphire blue. After what felt like an eternity, she pulled her weapons back and made a sound of disgust as she dismissed them into motes of sunlight.

“You are _decidedly_ unworthy of the sword you seek,” she said flatly. “I will not open the door for you.”

He stared at her. Her voice was vaguely husky, and held no edge of anger. Only a statement of what she saw as the truth, and a distinct notion that she was heavily disappointed by him. He flushed a little, and caught himself wondering _why_ he felt so embarrassed by this.

“L... Lady,” he stammered after a moment. “I need it.”

“I have no doubts that you do,” she replied coolly. “But your paltry skills would be a insult to the Heroes that have come before you, and to the sword herself.”

He leaned back a little, feeling almost as though he had been slapped, and watched in a mix of irritation and embarrassment as she went to retrieve his lost sword. She was beautiful, but he found himself comparing it to the beauty of a gemstone. Hard, and bright, but somehow untouchable.

“ _Look_ at this blade,” and now she sighed in clear annoyance. “Have you had _any_ formal training in swordsmanship, or were you just relying on luck to get by?”

“...there isn't a teacher for blades until we've mastered spears,” he mumbled.

“Tch. Well. It seems I must train you then. Come here, boy. We'll start with the basic care and maintenance of a sword, and then work on forms.”

He blinked, then jumped as she turned to give him a stare that would brook no arguments. Quickly, he trotted over to her, and she lifted the sword in both hands to show him the blade.

“See this? These nicks and dings will break the sword if you come across an opponent who is significantly stronger than you. You need to sharpen the blade, oil it, and then wax the leather of the hilt so that it doesn't crack.”

He nodded belatedly, and she shifted her grip on the sword so that she was giving it to him pommel first. He took it gingerly, then jumped a little as she produced, from the very sunlight itself, a stone, a cloth, a small bottle, and a chuck of beeswax.

“These will help.”

“I, ah...”

He flushed a little, and caught the hint of a smile. There was an edge to it, a mild exasperation, but not as sharp as her voice had made it sound. Her eyes had softened some, to a more gentle amber, though they carried a glimmer of sardonic humor.

“I'll show you. Watch closely.”

She sat on the ground, cross-legged, flipping the divided skirt of the tabard out of the way, and called forth her long knife. A little awkwardly, he sat too, and watched as she carefully checked the edges of her blade, sharpened them, wiped the blade with the cloth, oiled it, then waxed the leather binding on the hilt.

He gingerly imitated her, feeling rather like a gangly adolescent instead of his actual twenty-five years, and nearly jumped a foot when she reached over and gripped his wrist. Her hands were callused, but her grip was gentle.

“You're being too timid. Firmly, but with respect.”

It felt like it took hours before she was satisfied that he'd cleaned the blade properly, and he found his arms aching in response. Still, when she nodded and smiled faintly as if in pride, he felt his heart lift a little.

“Tell me what has happened in Hyrule to bring the Hero in search of his sword,” she said. “It must have been something very dire.”

“It's... Prince Zel. And his friend. A sorcerer came from another land, and cursed them; the prince and his protector are trapped in a painting, and his friend a stone statue. The sorcerer took over the castle then, and...”

“Hmm... dire indeed.”

Her tone suggested she was unimpressed, but he saw tightness in her shoulders, and for a brief moment worry flickered through those amber eyes. When those eyes focused again on him, he did his best to not jump;the assessing, judging look was back... but it was softer now. Finally, she sighed.

“I will train you,” she repeated. “But that is all I can do. Once you are worthy of the sword, you must leave, and I must remain on guard here.”

For some reason, this made him feel... hurt. It must have shown in his face, for she sighed again.

“To release the sword to your care is to open a door into the Sacred Realm, and put the Triforce at risk. It took me many centuries to repair it, and as the Sage of Light, it is my duty to ensure that it _stays_ there.”

He swallowed a little and nodded; the clear threat in her voice was enough to send chills down his spine. Strange to feel as though he knew her, that he could catch her tells that suggested she wasn't as calm about the situation as she played. The slight thinness of her lips, the angle at which she held her shoulders, the distant look in her eyes.

Not a gemstone. A very lonely, very hurt person. And she looked like...

After another moment, she shook her head, and got to her feet.

“Up,” she commanded, “and put your blade away. You won't need it here.”

“What... what does training entail?” he asked.

A thin smile crossed her face, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. But there was no malice in it, not like the smile he'd seen on the sorcerer when....

“The faster you learn these skills, the sooner danger ends, both for Hyrule, and for the Sacred Realm,” and her voice broke abruptly into his thoughts. “It'll probably _hurt_ , but better to hurt now while learning then to make a fatal mistake.”

He paled a little, which made her snicker at his expense, and hurried to put his sword in its sheathe. Mindful of her admonition to care for the sword, he didn't drop it on the grass as was his initial idea. Instead he considered where it might be safest to put it, and eventually decided on the stone plinth which she had been standing on.

There was an odd little half-smile on her face when he turned back, though it vanished quickly. In its place was a neutral expression, and with what he was coming to understand was her natural abruptness, she tossed a length of wood at him.

“Show me how you hold the sword.”

 

-

 

When she finally let him rest, _everything_ hurt. He felt as though he had been attached to the taffy puller of his grandmother's candy store and stretched out of shape. Or maybe it was more his mother's bakery, being a lump of dough that was pounded sternly before it was allowed to be baked.

 _She_ was unwinded. If anything, she seemed to find his exhaustion amusing.

“The training regime has worsened, I see,” she said, leaning idly against the plinth. “Your hand-to-hand is laughable, your staff work is _just_ passable enough to keep you alive, and while you might have a natural talent with the sword, you're really quite lucky to have made it this far at all.”

He grimaced a little from where he was laying, feeling both insulted and resigned to the fact that it was the truth.

“I've only been training for a couple of years,” he admitted. “Before that, I split my time working for my mother in her bakery, and my gran at her candy store.”

“Hm. What drove you to the guards?”

He hesitated.

“...My... My uncle,” he finally admitted. “See, it was my uncle who made sure that Gran and Ma weren't run out of the districts where they sell their stuff, but he's older than Ma, and getting creaky. So I thought, maybe if I joined the guards and got their training, _real_ training, I could help my uncle out that way.”

She nodded thoughtfully, idly weaving a ribbon of sunlight in through her fingers.

“A noble idea, but why didn't you ask your uncle to train you?”

“...Mom and Gran didn't like the idea,” he sighed a little.

That made her chuckle a little.

“Strong minded women, I take it. That explains quite a bit.”

He sat up slowly, wincing for the bruises.

“They've both been saving up for years to buy a big shop together,” he said plaintively. “I wanted to help them get that, and the only way I can is by making sure they don't have to pay protection money to the rackets around the tiny stores we have now...”

“And how did this turn into rescuing the princess and her friends?”

“Prince,” he corrected, making her blink.

“Prince?”

He nodded.

“Prince Zel, or... well, crown prince,” and he grimaced a little. “He used to sneak down to the markets with his bodyguard in tow, and we'd... we'd play together sometimes. He tried to take great pains so that no one would know who he was, so I didn't really know it was _him_ until they came to overlook the new trainees...”

A faint smile tugged at her face, wistful, and her gaze was distant.

“Some things never change,” she murmured.

“Huh?”

“That's more or less how I met Zelda the first time. Crazy princess wanted to be 'normal'.... Heh, normal. As if any of us ever were...”

He stared at her in confusion as the wistfulness faded into pain, before being quickly shuttered.

“So, you're doing this for an old friendship?” she asked.

“....yes,” he said, though he felt heat rising in his face.

A knowing smile crossed her own face.

“Are Hylians still stodgy about same-gender relations?” she asked, and there was a wicked smile on her face, a glimmer of humor in her eyes.

He spluttered, and the blush came full-force. Her laughter rang out, and for a moment, the ambient light in the clearing seemed much more brilliant.

“I'll take that as a _yes_.” She said, once he had fallen into an embarrassed silence, and her amusement had abated. “What ridiculous beings they are. As if genital configuration should _matter_ when it comes to who a person loves.”

She made a faintly dismissive gesture.

“Not my business, but when you _do_ rescue your prince, see if you can't talk to him alone. Even if he doesn't return your affections, you should be honest about those affections.”

“Easy for you to say,” he grumbled.

“Indeed. That doesn't make me wrong. My people were predominantly women. We loved one another as family, but also as lovers. Not everyone, certainly, but when you live hard, you take love and comfort where you can find it.”

Her expression had gone sad again, he realized. But so subtly that she looked only thoughtful. After a moment, she slanted him a glance, and he flushed again, quickly looking away.

“Eat,” she advised. “And rest. If the situation is so dire, then you need to learn quickly.”

 

-

 

The clearing was as timeless as the rest of the forest, lost eternally in mid-afternoon sunlight. He had no idea how long he trained with her, only that he did, and he learned quickly out of self-preservation and a desire to avoid pain. Not that she was harsh; far from it. When she walked him through moves, she was patient, precise, and gently firm. When he was tired, they stopped, when he was rested, they began again.

Every now and then, she would drop little hints of the past. _Her_ past. It only reinforced his thoughts; she was lonely. She was broken. She had suffered great loss, and had earned no grand reward for her pain, only more waiting. More watching.

When she finally deemed him worthy of the sword, it made him sad; he _liked_ her, initial impressions aside. Even though he desperately wanted to save Zel, he didn't want to leave her alone again.

“It's been a very long time since this door was opened,” she said quietly as he stood before the wall. “Be ready.”

“For... for what?”

She smiled that mysterious smile, and lifted a shining blue ocarina to her lips. The song that came out was haunting, sad, and achingly familiar. The door he had not seen until that moment shed moss and slowly opened, revealing at last, the other half of the clearing.

Mist coated the ground, stirring softly as he walked in. For a moment, there was a flash of memory; stone walls towering high overhead, light pouring in through stained-glass windows. A blue light, a fairy, fluttering in excitement. A girl beside him, terrified, but defiant.

He half turned; she was there, yes, but she was not a child. She was older than he could ever relate, and somber. When she noticed his attention, she made a slight shooing motion, and he turned back to see the sword that awaited him.

It stood on a pedestal inscribed with the symbol of the Triforce, most of the blade exposed to the open air. The blue hilt was metal, and lightly touched with dew, as though it was early morning.

“Before you do this, there's something you need first.”

He turned to face her, and blinked. In one hand, she was holding a small pouch, which she offered to him.

“I've put some transport globes in here,” she said, as he opened it and peered in curiously. Small glass bubbles, filled with golden mist, winked in the light. “Focus on where you want to go, then break it. Be careful though; if you have people around, they'll come with you, whether they want to or not. Also, I wouldn't recommend breaking them in your hand; they _are_ made of glass, and that would hurt.”

He winced a little at the thought, nodded, and hooked the pouched gingerly to his belt. He turned to the sword, and put his hands on the hilt, then paused when she spoke again.

“Try to do this quickly,” she said. “Once this door is open, I can only hide the power that it will exude for a short while. Anything that senses magic, and there are a great number of beings, will be drawn to it, like moths to the flame. If they come here, they will die.”

He swallowed.

“You'll... kill them?”

“I am sworn to protect the Triforce, and the balance of this world,” and her voice was hard. “Anything that approaches while the way is open must go through me to get to the Sacred Realm. Anything that _wants_ what is beyond the gate, I will kill.”

The ice in her voice left him speechless; she was not joking.

“As fast as I can,” he promised, his voice shaky.

“Thank you, Link.”

He started a little; in all their time, she had never asked his name, never volunteered hers. A slightly sardonic smile crossed her face.

“When you come back, I'll give you another gift. Now, take the sword, and save Hyrule.”

Link turned back to the sword, and put his other hand on the hilt, drawing it slowly. The scrape of metal and stone rang out like a bell, and before him, a misty portal formed, warm golden light flooding out. He stared at it momentarily, then jumped a foot as she cleared her throat.

“Go. Quickly.”

Recalled back to himself, he quickly pulled out a transport globe, pictured the training grounds of the castle, and threw it sharply to the ground; only belatedly did he realize that she might have been within the radius, and hastily turned... but the world was already dissolving into golden mist around him, and reforming to the place he so strongly desire to reach.

Fortunately, she had not been pulled with.

Link firmed his jaw as the mists settled back into familiar stone, and hefted the blue-hilted sword. It was time to save the kingdom.

 

-

 

“That was _not_ something I want to repeat,” the red-haired male said sourly as he flopped down onto a couch. “I was almost sent back as a damned _decoration_ for my people!”

“Being aware, but not able to move, was definitely unpleasant,” Zel agreed, shuddering a little. “We owe you a great deal, Link, for that timely rescue.”

Link flushed a little, and bowed, mostly to hide his embarrassed pleasure. The Prince's bodyguard, with her characteristic silence, only looked annoyed.

“Timely?” The redhead scoffed. “We've been stuck like that for _months_.”

“Hyrule is not a small kingdom, Ganon,” Zel chided. “And the Master Sword's location is a well-kept secret from everyone. For good reason, I should imagine.”

Ganon snorted from his place on the couch, and raked a hand through his hair, mussing it irritably.

“We do owe you much, Link,” Zel continued, turning back to look at the Hero. “What reward can we grant you?”

Link stammered a little, flustered and surprised. He had joined the _guards_ for reward. He had saved Hyrule because it was the right thing to do. The idea of a reward had never come into it.

Zel smiled kindly, and Link felt the heat creep up his face again; it wasn't _fair_. He was the crown prince, and handsome, and feeling like this... it wasn't right!

 _“You Hylians are always so stuck in the mud of right and wrong,” she'd said in disgust. “If you care about someone,_ tell them _, and be damned to rigid society. Love should ever live free.”_

“How'd you get so good with that sword?” Ganon asked, interrupting the moment abruptly. “Guard trainees don't get swords until their third year.”

“...in the place where the sword was, the... the Sage of Light waited,” Link said, stumbling a little over the fact that he _still_ didn't know the woman's name. “She trained me. She...”

He froze for a moment, paling. Zel placed a hand on his arm in concern.

“What's wrong?”

“...I beg your pardon, Highness, but I have to go,” Link replied, swallowing nervously. “I left her guarding something important, but she doesn't have a lot of time where it's safe, and I've probably used most of it.”

Under their feet, the castle rumbled as though an explosion had been felt. I threw all of them save Zel's bodyguard to the floor, and she was half-out the window before the tremors had ceased.

“...the cell block and east wing are shattered,” she reported. “And on fire. My prince, I believe the sorcerer has escaped.”

“...I _told_ you we should have killed him then,” Ganon said testily as he picked himself up off the floor.

“Yes, you did, and I did not listen. Shei, can you find him?”

“...no, my prince. There is a strong, blinding power coming from the direction of the Faron province. It blocks all attempts to see into shadows, because it obliterates those shadows.”

Link dug quickly into his pouch, pulling out one of the spheres and turned to go. He was surprised at how quickly Ganon crossed the room and grabbed hold of his arm.

“ _Where did you get these?_ ” he demanded, shaking Link sharply.

“Ganon!” Zel protested. “Let him go!”

“He has _transport_ _spheres!_ ” Ganon snarled in reply.

“Let. Him. _Go!_ ” Zel ordered.

Ganon turned to glare, and Zel stood firm. Slowly, with clear reluctance, Ganon released Link, who stared with wide eyes at the Gerudo male.

“S... she gave them to me,” he said stammered. “She said I could use them to get places quickly.”

Really, she had given him more than he necessarily needed. Two for leaving and one for returning would have been just fine... she had given him over a dozen, and he'd been wondering if she'd meant to give him so much.

“Transport spheres are a lost art of my people,” Ganon said tightly. “Made by one of our greatest sorceresses before she disappeared, and took the method with her. If this Sage of Light gave them to you, I need to meet her.”

“Okay, just... don't try and break my arm again?” Link asked plaintively.

“If I'd wanted to, it wouldn't still be whole.”

“ _Ganon_ ,” Zel sighed in exasperation.

“My prince, we should join them,” Shei said abruptly. “The Sage of Light is a long-formidable figure, but the defeat of the sorcerer required that sword, and the magic of the pair of you. She may need help.”

Zel hesitated, and despite himself, despite the urgency, Link waited. Finally the Prince nodded.

“I will, but we must first organize the people running around down there. If she is as formidable as legends say, she should be able to safely hold her own for that amount of time.”

Link didn't want to wait, and Ganon made an impatient sound.

“Just hurry it up,” the redhead ordered. “I don't want to wait any longer than I have to for your lazy ass.”

Link gaped a little at Ganon's comment, but Zel only smiled and nodded a little, then hurried out of the room, Shei vanishing into his shadow. Alone, Ganon turned to Link, and the Hero tried not to shrink back at the sharp look in those yellow eyes.

“Tell me _everything_.”

 

-

 

By the time Zel and Shei returned, twilight had begun to fall. Ganon was pacing, had _been_ pacing ever since Link had told him everything about the Sage of Light. Agitation rolled off him in practical waves, leaving Link to wonder just what it was about the Sage that Ganon seemed to know.

“What _took you_ so damn long?” Ganon snarled when Zel finally appeared again.

“Firefighting takes time, Ganon,” Zel said with tired, but genuine, affection. “And if we are to help the Sage of Light, we will need supplies. Shei has gathered them while I worked with the guards to make sure the south wing of the palace did not catch fire as well.”

“It would improve it,” Ganon muttered.

“The guards would heavily disagree,” was the mild reply. “Shei?”

She appeared from the shadows, with several bags for each of them. Link hadn't expected this, but was quick to pull one on when it was offered to him. Ganon shrugged irritably into his, and seemed to be nervously anticipating something, while Zel and Shei were both that same placid calm that had given the prince his reputation as a level-headed leader.

“All right. I apologize, Link, for this delay. Let's go and help your friend.”

Link nodded, though he kept his mouth shut on the idea that the Sage of Light was his friend. His teacher certainly, someone he could respect... but friendship? He was not so sure she knew how to offer that.

Regardless, he was late, _they_ were late. He pulled out a transport sphere, and closed his eyes tightly, picturing the clearing where he had left her to the best of his ability,then throwing the sphere down with a loud splintery crash. The golden mist that boiled up flooded the room, as if responding to more than just _his_ will, and the walls melted away.

They were dropped almost directly in the middle of the fight, and only the swift reactions of Shei and Ganon kept them from being hit from either side by magic. Ganon yanked Link with him to the left, while Shei dropped the prince flat onto his back with a sweep that made the magic miss him by only a few inches.

The fight was well-joined; the sorcerer was flitting from point to point of the second half to the clearing, while the Sage of Light stood firmly before the glowing, golden doorway. Link felt his heart clench as he scrambled to his feet and got a good look at her; the permanent midday sunlight was not flattering.

She glowed with a thin golden aura, but it was clear that she had suffered in the fighting; patches of her clothes were torn and bloody, though no wounds remained. Her long ponytail had been crisped; a good third of it was missing. Her entire focus was on the sorcerer, but her feet were planted in such a way as to suggest that she was not allowing herself to be baited away from that which she had sworn to protect.

“Little Sage, little Sage, do let me in,” the sorcerer hissed with a smirk.

“Over my dead body,” she snapped, summoning forth not the swords Link remembered, but a bow of gold and while,to which she nocked a glowing arrow. “And I do mean that quite literally. How many times do I have to _kill_ you?”

“Oh, but you never did. Twas your son that threw me from the world for a time.”

The glow around her brightened to incandescence; behind him, Link heard Ganon curse softly in another language.

“We have to get him onto the ground so you can stab him,” the Gerudo said softly as Shei and Zel made it over to them. “And we have to do it quickly. She's not doing so well.”

Link spared the red haired male a startled look, then glanced back at the Sage. She looked steady, solid as a rock.... and _extremely_ pissed off.

“Shei?”

“I cannot use the shadows here,” she said, her voice as soft as Zel's had been. “There is too much interference, and not enough of them as it is.”

Given that the light was coming from all angles, and practically erasing any trace of shade, this was a fair point. The magic used by the sorcerer and the Sage did not help, and they all covered their eyes quickly as the glowing arrow shot forward. It hit the place where the sorcerer had _been_ , however, and released its power harmlessly. Raiha's voice rose in cursing, and Ganon winced a little.

“Vicious tongue she's got...”

There was something off about the way he said the words, but Link didn't have time to understand it; the sorcerer had spotted them.

“You allies are slow,” he taunted.

“He's mortal,” she retorted. “It happens.”

She made an abrupt gesture, and a ball of light shot towards the sorcerer, who swore a little and dodged again. In that bit of breathing room, while she didn't turn to them, she gave orders.

“He keeps getting out of range. Fix that.”

She was talking to him. _Only_ to him, he realized. She didn't seem to know that he'd brought more than just himself, and she wasn't inclined towards looking away from the sorcerer. Around her, little pinpricks of light grew, like a field of stars, and shot upwards. She hissed out curses as the sorcerer dodged them all, laughing at her mockingly.

“A net,” Zel said quietly, his expression firm. “Ganon, I will need some help with this one.”

“Right,” Ganon smirked a little, though he kept his voice low. “We'll drag his ass out of the sky whether he likes it or not.”

The sorcerer could not mimic the Sage's spell, but he was not without spells of his own, and she could not, _would_ not, dodge. While Zel and Ganon worked hastily on their makeshift magical net, Link scrambled forward, getting between the Sage and the oncoming magic.

He didn't expect her to shove him aside.

A moment later, he was grateful that she had... and horrified at the amount of damage the spell had caused as it shot through her body. She dropped to her knees, blood pouring from multiple wound, wounds that hissed as they healed, as though they were being cauterized first. It still took obvious effort to stagger back to her feet.

“Don't throw your life away for me,” she snapped, not looking down at him. “Get him down to my level and _kill_ him already! The sword can do it, or at least can sap a good chunk of his power away!”

 _And then I can kill him_ was left hanging, unspoken, in the air. A reminder of her ruthlessness, the part of her that did, quite frankly, unnerve the hell out of him.

“My... friends are making a magical net,” he offered.

“Fr... no, I'll ask after why you brought more people into this. Just get it done, Link, and _fast_ , because we're about to have more company.”

She wasn't wrong either; they were creatures summoned by the sorcerer, meant to harry all of them. Her attacks, so fluid when she'd been teaching him, were sharp and short, brutal; out of the corner of his eye he watched as she moved no farther from the portal than she already was, and saw the tightness of anger in her face, caught hints of the exhaustion she was trying to hard to hide.

This had to end soon. Maybe she couldn't be killed, but she was being worn down, and he had learned enough about her over the course of his training to realize that failure was never an option for her.

He did what he could, battering away the beastlings that tried to crowd them. He was surprised when Shei joined the fray, slipping in and out with knives that were almost short swords in length, but the blades were thin and fine. They looked as though they ought to snap with the rough treatment, but they did not.

The net, when it was finally cast out, was a mix of gold and orange threads, knit more like a fine mesh than an actual net. The sorcerer had begun battering away at the Sage again, and thusly missed the attack until it was far too late to dodge. From the sound of his scream, he was both furious, and in pain, and the net itself seemed to radiate heat, as though it was a forge fire.

Raiha's thin-lipped smile suggested angry pleasure. Link stifled a shudder, and quickly moved towards the sorcerer before she could tell him again that he needed to kill this being.

It was not going to be so easy; even without the power of the enchanted orb, the sorcerer was canny and strong. The mesh of the net had begun to tear almost immediately, pained screaming or not. The sorcerer got one hand free...

One was enough. A black shard flew from his outstretched hand towards the Hero. Time slowed to molasses; he could not dodge this, he was too committed to the forward movement.

And then he was roughly moved, yanked off his feet and thrown back. A flash of brown skin, red hair. The Sage?

No.

Link stared up at the gaping wound in Ganon's back, dumbfounded. Blood soaked into the clothing he wore, dripped down onto the pristine grass. He had protected him... Saved his life.

As Ganon dropped to his knees, coughing and choking on his own blood, power blossomed all around them. Every strand of grass became infused with golden light, the stones became bleached of all color.

“ _I let you kill my son once_ ,” came a voice so soft and deadly Link was quick to scramble out of the way. Because in that voice was more than just the suggestion of danger, it was a promise of death, and it _echoed_ , despite also being a soft whisper. “ _I will not let you kill him again!_ ”

He started to turn, but was quickly halted by Zel and Shei, who had run over to grab him and Ganon and get them out of the way.

Still, he saw enough; the Sage was glowing incandescently, her hair wafting in a non-existent breeze. The magic of the Sacred Realm, he saw with more than mild trepidation, was not just hovering there any longer, it was pouring itself into her. Filling her somehow.

 _Now_ the sorcerer seemed afraid. He tried to scramble back, the net having fully disintegrated with neither Ganon nor Zel concentrating on it, and quickly fetched himself up against the unyielding stone wall.

Link could not help but watch, and almost as if she sensed his attention, the light grew to blinding, until he was forced to look away, to see Zel trying to save Ganon's life. From behind them, there was only a faint sound as the Sage dealt with the threat. As abruptly as the light had risen, it was gone.

He risked a look; all that was left of the sorcerer was a charred, blackened skeleton. The Sage's shoulders were slumped with weariness, but after a moment, she turned and strode quickly over to them, her expression still slightly touched with anger, but not as hot.

“Lady Sage, can you...?”

She knelt on Ganon's other side, responding to the plea of Zel, and held out a hand that glowed golden.

“Stupid, stubborn, arrogant, prideful...” she grumbled. “Link, put that damn sword back before something else comes around. I've had enough fighting for one lifetime, let alone all the ones I've lived.”

Link jumped to his feet and hurried to do as she said; the extra golden light cut off so abruptly that he felt the chill of it, as though a cloud had come over the sun. Then he turned hopefully.

Ganon had his hands gripping her wrists, and was saying something in a language that he could not understand. She looked shocked first. Then angry. Her response was in the same language, and seemed almost tempered by something else. Something suppressed, more so than the pain, and her hands shifted so that it was not entirely clear who was clutching whom.

Ganon just let out a bubbling sigh; before he could say anything else, a field of energy snapped up around him that glowed blue. The Sage sat back, looking angry.

“He doesn't want me to heal him,” she said shortly. “Or you. He wants me to petition the Great Three for immediate reincarnation. He wants...”

He voice trembled, and the anger bled away into bewilderment, and no small amount of grief.

“He wants me to be his mother again...”

“Lady Sage?” Zel asked tentatively.

She took in a breath, then let it out, and Link watched as she pulled herself towards calm.

“He's in a stasis field right now. For him, time has stopped, and he will remain that way until I make a decision. And before you ask, no, I did not cast it. Neither did he.”

After a moment she half closed her eyes, then turned to Link.

“I promised you a reward, I think. A gift, rather. I was initially only just going to tell you my name, before I went back to sleep, but now I think I must tell you of the past, and why.... why your friends request causes me such confusion.”

“Only if you want to,” Link said quickly.

“I appreciate your concern,” and she smiled a little, tiredly. “I think I need to say this, however. Little prince, you and your attendant-sister may remain, if you wish. Or you may have this,” and into her hand formed a small transportation sphere, “and return to your palace to continue your work.”

“....Lady, if you truly do not mind, I would like to remain and hear. Shei?”

Shei shrugged.

“I would like to know whether Ganon will be well, or if we are going to be writing to his elders of his death,” she said frankly.

To Link's surprise, the blunt comment got a smile. The Sage of Light nodded, and shifted to a more comfortable sitting position.

“Very well. I will endeavor to keep this short. Many centuries ago, in another time, the Triforce was sundered. In part, my ignorance was to blame, and I was told by the Three that I had to find some way of putting it right. I chose my place, and was given this second chance to make new mistakes and correct old ones.

“A child of destiny was born in my desert, and given to my care by his dying mother. I sought to try and _change_ destiny, and took the boy here, to Hyrule, to raise as my son. He grew up strong, and brave, if hot-tempered and rash, like a good number of young men are, charging headlong towards his destiny.

“I knew that one day he would slam into it, but I hoped that my efforts, my love, would mitigate it somehow. And it did, but not in the way I wanted it to. He still became cold and cruel, but it was not his fault; he was possessed by the creature that took that poor fool of a sorcerer,” and she gestured slightly to the charred, blackened bones behind her, though otherwise she gave little sign of caring. “When the Hero returned at last from the time before, sundering this Triforce in the process, he gained that which he was born to hold, in part because of the creature that possessed him; the Triforce of Power. This was the outcome I had half-hoped for, but I had not taken into account the idea of possession until this particular life, when I learned of it.

“I called to my son. I told him of conjecture, and hope, that it was _his_ soul, not the other, that the Triforce piece anchored to. I thought that if this was true, he could will the Triforce piece to me.”

She closed her eyes, and pain flashed briefly over her face. Link hesitated, then reached out and gingerly touched her hand. She blinked in surprise, then offered him a tired smile.

“I don't know if that was what he was attempting, but in the end what happened was that his body was destroyed; the evil spirit vanished, and my son's spirit moved on, leaving me the Triforce of Power, and allowing me to fix that which had been broken.”

She sighed a little, and looked down at Ganon, sealed in his stasis.

“For my work, the Goddesses granted me a boon, one which I have never made use to for myself. My son was dead, the Hero was a child, and I was more broken than he was. What could I offer him in such a state? Instead, I returned the Triforce and made a proper wish, then took up training as the Sage of Light. I came here to be a more proactive guardian of the Sacred Realm, instead of waiting within for the danger to arrive.

“That is the very short version of my story, of course,” and she smiled sardonically. “But it is enough in the interim to help you see why his request leaves me... conflicted. I do not know that I am capable of mothering a child. As Link well knows, I am only just _barely_ capable of being friendly. And I still do not know what it is that I could want for myself...”

“If I may be... bold, Lady Sage?”

“Raiha,” she said. “Raiha Liratori. But... just Raiha.”

“Raiha then,” and Zel smiled a little. “I think you should use your boon to give Ganon what he wants.”

She raised an eyebrow, her expression unamused.

“He has long been searching for something,” Zel continued, unperturbed by the stare, which Link found frankly amazing. “Ever since we met as children, I had known that he was seeking something, some _one_ , though he never confided who it was in me. I think he has been searching all these long years, for you.

“So yes,I believe you should use the boon to give him what he wants, but also to give yourself your own fresh start. Forgive past mistakes and accidents... If you could be a mother once, why not again?”

“You are asking me to give up.... more than you know,” she said slowly.

“... has it ever made you happy?” Link asked.

Raiha blinked, and half-turned to look at him.

“You keep talking like you're responsible for the world,” he said, feeling a bit flustered. “But you don't seem like it makes you happy. And... my gran always told me that if something doesn't make me happy, I should put it down for a while and figure out what's wrong.”

She looked down at her hands in silent thought, and then dawning understanding crept across her face. The look of comprehension made her look... younger. Less like the age her mind plainly was, and more the age her body was, which was on par with the rest of them.

“Oh... I see...” she aid softly. A slightly bemused smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I could have put this down at any time. I was... Huh.”

He jumped about a foot when she turned and kissed his cheek, and heat rose in his face, even as a smile crossed hers.

“We Gerudo do corner the market on stubborn. Thank you. Both of you. I needed to hear that, and it's been long in coming.” She was quiet for a minute, then got to her feet, and motioned for them to do the same. “I believe it is time for you to go.”

“What do you want me to tell the elders?” Shei asked.

“Tell them... an unfortunate magical accident occurred when subduing the sorcerer, and Ganon has been regressed to infancy... and is in the care of the Sage of Light, who will be returning just as soon as she adjusts to some new concepts.”

And Raiha smiled. Link felt his heart skip a beat, and judging by the startled looks from both Shei and Zel, he was not the only one. It was, perhaps, the first genuinely happy smile he had seen on her face.

“Can't we... stay and watch?” Link asked a little plaintively.

Her smile gained a hint of mischief.

“Oh, you'll see me far sooner than they will. I'll need to peruse the Royal Library first, after all.”

“You will be an honored guest when you arrive,” Zel said, bowing slightly to her. “I look forward to seeing you again, Lady Liratori.”

 

-

 

_Five years old today, and as energetic as ever. I feel a fool for not realizing I could have asked for this so long ago, but at the same time, I am glad it took me so long._

_He is my son in truth now; that other me had children, and ironically he is of her line. Mine. The terminology is confusing, and now that I lack eternity, I no longer try to grasp it._

_Every day is a domestic adventure._

_I am so glad that they came into my life._

 

-

 

“Mama, mama! Auntie Shei says we have to hurry, or we're going to be late!”

Raiha glanced up at her son, red-haired, amber-eyed and dark skinned, practically bouncing in excitement as he hovered in the doorway, and smiled warmly at him. Then, she raised an eyebrow.

“Did you put away your toys?”

“Ye-es,” he sighed impatiently.

“And the books?”

“Yes!”

“And if I go look in your room I'm not going to find them piled haphazardly under your bed?”

The sudden look of alarm made her laugh, and he darted away, his bare feet thumping on the wooden floor. Carefully she pushed back from the table, as Shei stuck her head around the door curiously.

“Zel is downstairs?”

“And Sir Link,” she nodded. “Did you ever decide what you were going to say?”

Raiha smiled wickedly, and rested a hand on her rounded stomach.

“I'm a Gerudo. The baby is _mine._ The council can go stuff themselves.”

Shei half-smiled herself, and nodded slightly.

“Cat among the pigeons,”she said.

“I wouldn't have it any other way. Gan, I was only teasing,” she called up the stairs. “Let's get moving, or we're going to miss the best part!”

“And what best part would that be?” Shei asked, stepping aside as the boy pelted down not just the stairs that led to the large attic room he loved, but the stairs that led to the main living room.

“For him? The puppet show.”

“And for you?”

Raiha only smiled, and headed down the stairs to greet her lovers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This damn thing bit me not more than a day after I finished the initial story. It was initially just a 'what if' scenario, and then it blew up into... well...this. Yay happy ending?
> 
> Yes, Zel is a genderswapped Zelda, and Shei is Sheik. Because why the hell not? (The only reason Link stayed male is because otherwise I'd have had to name one of them early on, and I wanted to avoid it for funsies.)


End file.
